


Comrades and Brothers

by apokfan (writing1swat)



Series: The French Mistake Verse [1]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Action, Adventure, Gen, Supernatural - Freeform, The French Mistake Verse, canon violence, spinoff of "French Mistake"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing1swat/pseuds/apokfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ep. 15, season 6 "French Mistake" spinoff – Two guys transported to a strange place by a mysterious power. That's not so bad, right? But there's a catch. They hate each other. And now they're forced to work together to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure what to categorize this as since it had Jensen and Jared in it. In the end, I think this is more a _Supernatural_ story than an RPF, because these are the characters Jensen and Jared play in an alternate universe that is similar to our real life, yet not because the Jensen and Jared they portray there hate each other. I decided I liked that episode enough that I would attempt writing a spinoff of the pair of Jensen and Jared that aren't exactly friends with each other but seem to stand each other enough to film together.

**Part 1**

Jensen hiked up his khakis for the umpteenth time as Jared rolled his eyes. The muddy water beneath their feet made a sloshing sound as they walked. Jared stopped as another car drove past them and threw his hands up in frustration. "That's it. This is getting us nowhere, man. Don't you have a better plan?"

He half turned to see his co-star stare at him with raised eyebrows and tight, pursed lips. "What the hell are you looking at me for, Padalecki? I'm as lost and carless as you. At least my plan has us walking around and not sitting on our asses in god knows where!"

Jared fumed. "Yeah because wandering around aimlessly is so much better than staying put and looking for a lift."

"Excuse me for not being too fond of hitch hiking with strangers or have you not seen the movies?" Jensen sneered. "Or, hell, any of our episodes."

Jared snorted as they continued to walk along the road. It was eerily quiet out. "Paranoid freak."

"Sometimes it's good to be a little cautious," Jensen shot back.

Jared just rolled his eyes and watched as a truck came down the empty road. Jared stuck his hand up in a half hearted attempt to grab the driver's attention and to his surprise the vehicle came to a slow roll. It stopped just a few feet from the two men. Jared looked anxiously back at Jensen and noticed the tension in the man's shoulders. The driver rolled the window down and Jared could see the bulky outline of a man in the darkness.

"Son of a bitch," Jensen said from behind him in a perfect mimic of his character, Dean Winchester, as he stepped closer.

At the same time, the driver said in surprise, "Dean? Sam? Is that you, you idjits?"

Before Jared had time to contemplate what was going on, the driver got out of the car and Jim Beaver was coming around the truck to greet the two actors. "Beaver!" Jared cried in relief and ran to hug the man.

Then suddenly he found himself thrown on the ground on his ass and Jim was glaring down at him for no reason. Baffled Jared sat there as Jim hissed out a "Christo". Then as fast as lightning, Jim dug his left hand into his jacket and got out a bag half filled with some kind of white powder. Jared wasn't sure what to make of this.

Behind him Jensen seemed just as confused, chuckling nervously like he thought their friend had lost his mind and he didn't want to startle him into a full on melt down. "Come on, Jim. Quit messing with us. It's not that funny, dude."

Jim paused to stare at them and for a moment Jared hoped Jensen had reached him. But then Jim was back to opening the bag and Jared only had a second to lift his arm up as the man threw a handful of the white powder all over Jared. Jared blinked in surprise and sat dumbly on the ground waiting for Jim's next move. Nothing came for a full thirty seconds. Jared eased back and swiped the powder from his hair. He heard the stiff movements coming from Jensen behind him.

"Dude, he threw salt at us," Jensen hissed in his ear. "I mean what the actual fuck?"

"I…don't know," Jared shook his head baffled. Jim's behavior was definitely out there. Jim went over to the back of his truck and took out a knife. Jared's eyes bulged as he took in the sight. "J-Jim?"

Jim's eyes narrowed at Jared. "Stop calling me that and tell me what you did to Sam!" He edged closer to the two men. "Fucking shape shifters, I swear."

"Shape shifters? Are you fucking high, Jim? We're not shape shifters!"

"Shut your mouth," Jim spat, waving the hunting knife at Jensen in warning causing the man to clam up.

Jared eyed the knife nervously and made to get up when Jim's gaze shifted back to him, a hard gleam in his eyes. "Stay put, shape shifter."

Not seeing much of a choice, Jared sat back down, his huge frame tensing up as Jim stepped closer until he was right in front of Jared, then he crouched down and lifted one of Jared's arms up. Jensen spluttered indignantly from behind them as Jim sliced into Jared's arm. The three men watched as red blood oozed from the wound. For a long moment no one said anything, silently mesmerized by the sight of the blood, but finally Jared figured it was safe to pull his arm back. He cradled his arm, hissing at the pain as he shifted to a more comfortable position, crossing his legs beneath him.

"Son of a gun…you really aren't a shape shifter," Jim muttered, wiping the blood from the knife with his jacket. Jared stared up at him with wide eyes, a disbelieving look on his face, because really that was what they had repeatedly said from the beginning.

"No shit," Jensen said.

Jim snapped his eyes to the blonde. "He might not be a shape shifter, but you still could be," Jim growled.

"For the love of…Christ, man, what in the hell is wrong with you?"

"Huh. Neither of you are shape shifters. This is a new one."

"Christ, we could've told you that, you freak. In fact we did," Jensen said, stressing the last sentence. He rubbed at his arm making sure to avoid the slice. "Damn it, that hurts."

Jim sighed and shook his head as he put away the knife with some reluctance. "So what the hell are you guys then?"

"Human," Jared said instantly. "We're one hundred percent human."

Jensen snorted as Jim stared at them suspiciously. "Yeah and you're one hundred percent bonkers. You should've just said no to the drugs, man. That stuff always comes back to bite you in the ass."

Jim glared at Jensen. "I don't take any drugs, kid. Just tell me why the hell you two are dressed like my boys and we'll forget this whole thing."

Jensen and Jared both exchanged bewildered glances with each other. They were both freaking out, Jensen knew. He could see it in Jared's eyes just the same as he could hear the quickening beat of his heart in his own chest. He felt something churn in his guts. Either Jim had gone insane or he really thought Jensen and Jared were Dean and Sam and that was just fucking nuts because Dean and Sam were just characters off a TV show and so was Bobby but Jim thought he was actually Bobby Singer and nothing so far had made any kind of sense. Either Jim had lost his head through the years or…or Jensen was losing his or maybe they both were or maybe the whole damn world was.

"Okay look man, we have no freakin' clue what's going on but we're not Dean and Sam and you're not Bobby Singer. I'm Jensen Ackles, he's Jared Padalecki and you're fucking Jim Beaver and you're our friend and we're just actors and seriously, what the shit have you been smoking?"

Jensen stumbled back a step as both Jim and Jared stared at him like he'd lost his mind. Yeah okay, that sounded way better in his head but seriously he didn't understand why Jared was joining the old man, Jim was completely insane and Jensen was starting to regret every moment they stayed here with him. This was just too messed up. Jensen looked down at his feet as Jared finally turned away to face Jim again clearing his throat awkwardly in the silence.

"What my, uh, friend here said is correct. We're just actors from this TV show and we have no idea what happened to uhm Sam and Dean," Jared's voice said.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Okay say what you're saying is true and you don't know a damn thing 'bout them which is very highly unlikely might I add, say I believe all that, I've got one question for you and I'd like a damn answer–a straight one."

Jared swallowed and nodded. He had a feeling what the question might be and didn't know how he'd answer but for their sake, he'd have to. "Okay, sure. Whatever it is, I'll try to answer," he said licking his chapped lips nervously.

"You better do more than try," Jim warned as he went to the trunk to fish out a shotgun. Jared's eyes widened at the sight, his mouth open to let loose a shocked gasp that was just loud enough to snap Jensen's head up. "Now I ain't playing 'round here. If you two are who you say you are, then why in hell are you dressed like my kids?"

"Holy shit," Jensen let slip backing away as far as he dared without taking eyes off the gun, an actual honest to god real gun with real bullets that would really actually hurt if he did fire at them. "Oh my god we stepped in a nut house," he stuttered to Jared. "Padalecki, he's seriously tripping, man. That's a gun. Honest to god real gun. And the nutty fucker's got it in his hands. And the safety's off and I bet it's loaded. He's gonna shoot at us, the crazy ol' coot's gonna shoot us dead." He couldn't seem to shut his mouth up but he really didn't want to die. He didn't want to die. Jensen was too young to die. He still wanted to do a million things like getting back home to his bed, to Danny. Living to see tomorrow. Playing as Dean freaking Winchester, hunter extraordinaire. But he couldn't do any of that if he was dead.

"Shut up, Ackles," Jared hissed getting kind of sick of the death talk. He addressed Jim then, "Look man, put the gun down. No one needs to get hurt around here. We get that you just wanna find your boys but look, we already said we aren't them and we don't know what happened to them and you already tested us to see if we're human and we passed. Now just put the gun down and we can talk this out like rational adults."

"I am being rational," Jim snapped holding on tighter to the gun like a man possessed. "Now why don't you just answer my question and we can damn well move on."

"We told you already, we're actors for this TV show called 'Supernatural' and Sam and Dean are our characters and today we were shooting this one episode called 'The French Mistake' and right when we had to jump through this window in this scene we landed here in the middle of nowhere! We don't know anything beyond that, honest to god!"

A thick silence descended over them. Jim regarded the two actors thoughtfully for a moment and Jensen found himself holding his breath because it looked like he finally believed them. Finally Jim heaved a sigh and holstered the shotgun, and put the safety back on. "Yer lucky that actually sounds plausible," he grumbled.

Jared perked up a little at that, relief flooding his face. "Really? How?" he asked curiously.

"Angels," Jim said simply but didn't bother to elaborate before he closed his eyes and screwed his face up in concentration. It set Jensen on edge. He had a feeling things were about to get nuttier.

"Just how much crazy can a guy take?" he grumbled to Jared.

Jared looked back at him, strangely amused. "We're about to find out I guess."

For more than a couple minutes nothing happened. Jim opened one eye and looked around; he seemed unsurprised by the result and shrugged a little before the grounds suddenly shook under their feet. Jared nearly toppled over. Jensen braced himself for whatever was about to come.

"Bobby Singer," a familiar gravelly voice boomed from behind them.

"Son of a gun, you came," Jim said in an awed voice.

"Of course. You prayed."

Both Jensen and Jared whirled around in surprise. In all his glory, stood a man in a trench coat. His arms stretched out before him, his head was cocked at an angle as he took in Jensen and Jared with achingly familiar blue eyes and lips turned down in a frown. "Misha?" The name came out before Jensen could stop and think but the man just looked at him blankly, a perfect imitation of his character Castiel.

Misha shook his head. "No. My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the lord. And you two are not Sam and Dean. Are you?"


	2. Part 2

**Part 2**

Misha shook his head. "No. My name is Castiel. I am an angel of the lord. And you two are not Sam and Dean. Are you?" Misha's voice came out less an inquiry, more a statement of fact, to which Jensen had no verbal response but to shrug his shoulders. This had gone from the realm of weird to downright crazy. People couldn't just pop out of nowhere after all. As if Misha had read his mind, he replied with, "Humans cannot travel as angels, no."

"Pinch me I must be dreaming," Jensen muttered to Jared. "I think he was just in my head. This is all one big hallucination, isn't it, Padalecki? Someone from the crew put something in our drinks before the take."

Jared shook his head slowly, just as awed. "I…don't know." He bent down to grab a fistful of dirt, letting it slip through his fingers. "This feels pretty real to me." Jared looked back up to Misha and suddenly made to touch him. The man let him, an oddly childish curiosity lighting his face. "I can't believe I'm actually standing right in front of a real live angel."

"What the hell are you doing, man?" Jensen hissed as he swatted away Jared's hand. "Quit trying to channel your inner weirdo."

"I'm not trying to channel my inner weirdo! There's a real live angel in front of us, man, and not just any angel, it's Castiel. What do you expect me to do?" Jared asked with a huff, snatching his hand back.

Jensen gritted his teeth. "Don't you get it? None of this is real. I'm dreaming right now and I'm gonna wake up any minute and I'd appreciate it if the dream version of Padalecki would stop acting like a wacko in the meantime. Geez! Is that so much to ask for in my own head?"

Jared cast his partner a look of bewilderment when his words sank in and realization dawned. "You think you're dreaming this?" he asked in an incredulous voice.

Jensen looked suddenly indignant and his voice wavered, "Well yeah! How else can Misha appear out of thin air and read people's minds," he waved his hand toward the trench coated Misha, "and Jim is stuck in Bobby mode! He thought we were demons or whatever and he's loaded!"

Suddenly Jared pulled Jensen by the collar of his shirt and their foreheads collided. Jensen hissed in the sudden spark of pain and made to push Jared back but the other man's grip only tightened and he had no other choice but to stay still. "Why don't you just calm the hell down right now, Ackles? Now listen, OK? I'm real. I'm as solid as you and I'm seeing the same crap you are. You feel this? Here? Do you?" He tightened his grip further and watched as his co-star gave a stiff nod. "Good. That pain you're feeling right now? That ain't in your head. It's real. I'm real. You're real. Everything and everyone here are real. Whether you like it or not, we're here as far away as home as can be it seems, with them." He nodded toward the angel and hunter. "And they have answers, I'm sure of it. So just stay focused and we'll get through this in one piece. OK?"

Jensen nodded and Jared let him go with a relieved sigh. "When did you become so convincing?"

With a sheepish smile, Jared shrugged and said, "It's what I do for a living, remember?"

Jim coughed into his fist and the two turned back, slightly embarrassed to have momentarily forgotten they weren't alone. "Right. So if the pep talk is all done with, let's move on to the more pressing matters at hand." He turned to Misha, his face darkened with worry and suspicion. "If these guys really aren't from this universe, is it safe to assume the Winchesters were sent to where ever the hell they came from?"

Misha mulled over the question for a moment. Jensen could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "Yes, it would be safe to assume so. I did not know where Balthazar would send them as I was busy fending off Raphael's men, but if Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, Dean Winchester's and Sam Winchester's counterparts from the other dimension, are here then I would assume the Winchesters are presently in their world, safe from heaven at the moment."

Jared's eyes bulged at the explanation. "They're in _our_ world?"

Misha spared him a glance. "Yes."

"What the hell do you mean 'safe from heaven'? Aren't you the _good_ guys?" Jim demanded at the same time as Jensen said, "Take us back then."

Misha sighed as if he was dealing with a bunch of difficult four year olds and Jensen had to laugh at that thought. It lasted only a moment before his expression was as blank as ever. "Most of us are still sided with the humans but Raphael has always been a traditionalist. I do not know which exact world Dean and Sam were sent off to but the spell should be over within a day."

"Should?" Jared asked, latching onto the word.

There was a small hesitation before Misha said, "If the Winchesters do not pull out of your world tomorrow, I cannot get them back."

A heavy silence descended and Jared had to ask, "What about us? Is there a way for us to get back?"

Jensen already knew the answer to that by the glum look on Jim's ashen face and Misha's ever blank stare, like a permanent stoic mask. "The only way is for the Winchesters to get back. You two should be instantly teleported back to your world then but otherwise there is no other way. I am sorry."

Jensen swallowed. "So if they don't make it…"

Misha gave no word of confirmation but his grim expression was all the answer they needed. Jared slumped to the ground. "This sucks. Really, really sucks."

"I know," Jensen agreed thinking of Danny and her dream of some day becoming a mother, of having a family with Jensen. What if they were stuck in this upside down world forever? What if some hunters from another dimension were stuck in their world, with their families and careers and everything Jensen and Jared had ever known for the rest of their lifetime? It was insane and Jensen tried to stop thinking about it. Dean and Sam were good at what they did. Jensen knew that. He was in Dean's head more times than not. If anyone could get the deadline right, it was the Winchesters. They'd make it and tomorrow Jensen and Jared would be back in a world where Misha wasn't actually Castiel and Jim wasn't really Bobby Singer and they'd all forget this happened.

In the meantime though. "What are we supposed to do?" Jensen wondered aloud.

"Stay put until tomorrow," Misha said seriously. Then without a further word he disappeared to the sound of flapping wings.

"Hey wait a second!" Jensen looked around them and cursed. "Damn angels. And we need to talk to Kripke about the wing effects when we get back."

Jared grimaced and stood up straighter. "It's not that bad. I like the effects."

"Well I hate it," Jensen declared.

Jim huffed, "Them angels for you. Guess you two are stuck with me for the time being. Come on then, let's get in the truck. Don't need to spend the night out here."

"Where are we going?" Jensen asked as he climbed in the front, marveling at the inside. It was the exact truck they had at the set. He suddenly wanted to see the Impala.

Jim glanced at the men as he initiated the engine. "Back to the salvage yard."

"Right," Jensen nodded.

It was surprisingly not long before they were at Jim's –Bobby's place. It looked the same as Jared remembered from all the years he acted on the **Supernatural** set. It was hard to get used to the idea that this was not the set and Jim wasn't playing as Bobby but was actually Bobby. He kept turning to Jensen only to have to forcefully remind himself Jensen wasn't Dean and he wasn't Sam. This wasn't a new episode they were shooting. It was the real deal.

Jared was currently in the study pouring over the dozens of demonology books and ancient text. He felt almost like a kid on Christmas or in Disney World for the first time. Nearing midnight, Jensen found him on his second read of a more modern text that had more Latin in it than anything that could be found in a public library. "Hey, man," he said without looking up, completely absorbed in reading.

Jensen paused at the doorway, leaning back with his arms cross, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hey," he greeted back, his voice carefully neutral. "What are you up to in here?"

Jared snorted at the question. Jensen was stalling; something else was obviously on his mind. Jared set the book back on the table and looked up at the man. For all that they worked with each other on set; Jared practically knew nothing about Jensen. They had never been friends. In fact Jared had never ever associated the word with Jensen before. They were more…acquaintances if anything. Partners, co-stars, associates…any one of those would fit. But not friends, not brothers. Jared and Jensen would never be as close to each other as the Winchesters.

"Hey, earth to Padalecki." Jensen's fingers were snapping in his face suddenly. "You there dude?"

Jared scowled and swatted his hand away. "Yeah I'm here. Don't call me dude."

"Woah. OK. Whatever, sorry," Jensen said not at all sorry. He backed off with a shrug. "So what were you doing?"

Jared suddenly remembered the books and grinned brilliantly as he picked up the one he had been reading before the interruption. "Bobby has a lot of awesome books."

Jensen's face darkened at the name. "Don't call him Bobby," he muttered.

Jared snorted. "Get over it. He's Bobby Singer so we might as well call him by his name."

Jensen rubbed the back of his neck. He hunched his shoulders. "Yeah well it's still weird."

"Whatever, _Mr. Sensitive_ ," Jared said ignoring Jensen's scowl. He was getting better at this.


	3. Part 3

**Part 3**

_Thump_. _Thump_. _Thump_. "Ackles, hey, hey, Ackles…wake up."

Jensen groaned and shifted to lay on his side, back to the dark, open archway where Jared peeked his head in, dressed in nothing but dark blue boxers and a t-shirt. He hung on to the door frame wondering if he should just march to the bed and shake the man awake instead. Jensen had a pillow covering his head, as if he ignored Jared long enough he'd slink back to his room, but Jared had more pressing matter than sleep. "Ackles, dude, I know you're awake."

There was a growl and suddenly a pillow went flying and hit Jared square in his stomach. "Ow. Dude, really?"

" _Dude, really_?" Jensen echoed, turned around so Jared could see angry green eyes in the darkened bedroom. Yeah. Okay. Jensen had a right to be angry. It was a little past one am now. Jared still hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep yet, he just wasn't tired but yeah, he could see why Jensen was a bit cranky. "I'm tired. Can't whatever it is wait 'til morning?"

Jared was about point out it was technically morning but he saw Jensen hold up a hand and quickly amended, "Later in the morning I mean, like a time when _normal_ people actually start to wake up." There was a slight emphasis on normal.

Jared snorted, a retort at the tip of his tongue. Thump. He paused and looked back down the hallway. _Thump_. _Thump_. He heard a string of curses coming from the kitchen and turned back to see Jensen push himself up in bed, rubbing blearily at his eyes. Jensen looked a disheveled mess, his normally blonde hair neatly gelled and combed down now spiked in every direction. He glared murderously in the dark when he caught sight of Jared holding in his laugh. Jared smiled innocently as he flattened a palm to his head.

There was another loud thump and a muttered curse through the thin wall. "What's going on?"

Jared stood back on his heel. "Bobby's getting ready for a hunt."

"Oh." Jensen fell back on the pillow. "So he's going now?"

"Looks like."

"Awesome. So then that leaves us the house."

"Uh yeah…about that." Jared scratched his chin thoughtfully as he watched Jensen roll over to face him again, annoyance on his face now. He mouthed _what is it now_? Jared sucked in a deep breath as he heard Bobby marching around in the other room, gathering his rifle and silver bullets and other essentials he needed. "I kinda asked him if I could tag along."

There was a long lapse of silence as Jared watched Jensen mull it over. Finally he just shrugged and said, "Okay."

"Okay," Jared echoed, unsure, hesitant. That was it? Okay? It must have shown on his face, in his voice, because Jensen shrugged again.

"Yeah. Okay. Whatever, man. What do you want me to say?"

"Well…I mean…" Jared paused, searched for something to respond with. He started to idly tap on the wall with his fingers like it was a piano. Frustrated, Jared said, "I mean, just 'okay'? 'Whatever, man'? That's all you got to say about it?"

Jensen threw him another annoyed look. "Yeah. That's it. All I got. I mean this is already crazy, ya know? Totally, out of this world crazy." He snorted and turned back to look at the ceiling, hands underneath the pillows. "If we ever make it back to our world, at least I'll have this incredible, unbelievable story to tell."

Jared couldn't help but agree. He found himself walking into the bedroom without a second thought. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jared looked down to the floor. "Yeah. No one's gonna believe us."

"Yeah well can't say I'd blame them. I still don't believe any of this myself. I still feel like I'm floating around in a dream, everything's just surreal, ya know?"

"Yeah. Yeah I get the feeling."

The bed shifted under their weight. Jared still wouldn't look at Jensen. "So uh, I guess this means, he's letting you? Tag along that is?"

"Yeah…he's, uh, letting… _us_ tag along."

"Us… _us_?"

Jared shifted uncomfortably, coughed into his fist. "It was the only way to get him to agree. Bobby said he couldn't let both of us out of his sight. He was gonna get someone to watch over us originally but I was kind of persistent to go along on the hunt so one thing just led to another." He peeked over his shoulder to see Jensen's reaction.

Jensen had bolted upright, stared back at Jared like he'd lost his marbles. _Maybe I have_ , Jared thought wryly. "Are…are you fucking insane, Padalecki?" Jensen all but shouted. "What the hell, man?"

"Yeah I'm fucking insane, dude. Calm the hell down." Jared attempted to lay a placating hand on Jensen's shoulder but he was pushed back as Jensen scrambled off the bed and away from Jared.

Jensen rubbed his face with a sigh. "Okay, so okay…give me a minute here." He took a gulp of air and he thought it over. "Okay. So Jim's original plan was to get us a babysitter, probably some other…" he made a grimace, "…some hunter, cos he got called in suddenly to take care of some supernatural creepy in the middle of the night but then you had to butt in," at this point Jensen levelled a glare, "and say you could somehow help out even though you have no, and let me emphasize on the no, experience whatsoever hunting. He tells you no first time round. How am I doing so far?"

"Good," Jared mumbled.

"Awesome. Just awesome," Jensen huffed and rubbed his face again. "So then you make this deal where we both go with him. Right? Am I fucking right, Padalecki?" At Jared's hesitant nod, Jensen took a step back and laughed. "Awesome. Neither of us have any clue how to hunt, let alone use a freakin' gun! Listen pal, I ain't going. That's that, okay?"

Jared finally rose to his feet. "Aw come on, man. Just listen, will you?"

"No. Nu uh. No way. I ain't getting any more involved in this freak world than is required. He can find us a god damn babysitter. Then I can sleep and tomorrow we'll wake up back in the _real_ world!"

Jared grabbed hold of Jensen's shoulders and shoved him hard to the wall. "Just fucking shut up and listen for once," he said roughly shaking the man's shoulders. Jensen quieted but the defiance in his eyes still showed clearly through the darkness. It took Jared a moment to gather himself. "Okay. Okay, look, first I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. Sorry I didn't ask you first. But dude, I'm doing us a huge favor here." Jensen snorted but Jared didn't let go. "Seriously. I am. I mean, who do you trust more? Bobby? Or some random hunter?" Jensen didn't say anything so Jared continued. "Look, I know. You're tired and cranky and frankly, so am I. I get it, man. And yeah we haven't exactly been buddy buddy the past few years. Hell, I know more about Misha than I do of you and he's only been on set for a little over two years. No offense."

"None taken."

"Right. So yeah. We're not exactly buddy buddy," Jared repeated for good measure. Jensen inclined his agreement. "But like I said…this beats the alternative, right? Besides I asked Bobby about the guns. He said, and I quote, 'Like hell I'm handing you idjits guns when ya'll don't know a damn 'bout how to use one.' So no accidental shooting from me," he smiled slightly at the joke, willing Jensen to too. Jensen snorted and shoved him off once Jared loosened his grip.

He picked up his discarded jacket and put it on, reminding Jared more and more of Dean Winchester. Once they got back to their own world, Jared was going on holiday. Jensen's eyes flicked to his and followed his unspoken gaze to the jacket. Shrugging he said, "If we're going to do this thing in the middle of the night, gotta be prepared. I ain't getting the chills standing outside while Jim shoots down a…uh, werewolf or whatever."

"Yeah, it's a werewolf," Jared mumbled as he followed Jensen out of the room. "Or at least Bobby thinks it's one. It's causing a ruckus in a town called Brookings and Bobby's been called to clean it up."

"For fuck's sake," Jensen muttered. He looked back over to Jared and glared pointedly at him. "When this is all over, you owe me a drink."

Jared sputtered indignantly, "Are you kidding me? Why would I owe you?"

"Just because."

"Just because. Dude, are you okay? You been channeling Dean Winchester a lot since we got here you know."

Jensen scowled at him and threw his hands up as they reached the kitchen. "Me? At least I'm not the one who's playing along with these nuts."

Jared nodded sagely. "Yup that's another Dean Winchester thing to say."

"Well maybe Dean's a little part of me. Ever thought of that?"

Jared shrugged. "Whatever. Dude, calm down. You know I'm just messing with you, right?"

"Yeah. Whatever, man," Jensen grumbled as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

Bobby turned around when he heard the two approach. He raised an eyebrow as he caught sight of them. "How you boys been holding up?"

"Great," Jared replied. He stood back on his heels as his gaze drifted to Bobby's bag, a rifle poking out. "All ready here."

"Good," Bobby grunted and turned back to shove more supplies into the go-bag. He stood up once he was done and turned back to regard the two men thoughtfully. His eyes lingered briefly on Jensen whom shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

"Let's do this thing," Jensen said finally, lifting green eyes from the kitchen tiles.

Bobby regarded for another minute before nodding. He slung the bag over his shoulder and pushed past the men. "Alright. Let's go."

Jared and Jensen exchanged nervous glances before scurrying to follow.

It wasn't very far to a town called Brookings. Sooner than Jared knew they were coming up to signs of civilizations like traffic lights and advertisement billboards of McDonalds and other fast food joints. His mind inadvertently shifted to food as his stomach growled. Jared sat in the backseat and stretched his legs as best as the small space allowed him. Jensen flashed him a grin from the front. Jared remembered him calling dibs on shotgun right before they had scrambled into the truck, shoving each other to get to the front. Bobby had looked on in annoyance with a small hint of amusement, a small drop of it Jared was sure he had interpreted his expression wrong, then he coughed awkwardly into his fist and took Jared by his arm and led him to the back. Jared had been sulking ever since but now he was hungry as they made their way into Brookings.

Bobby threw a granola bar into the back. "Might as well eat up." He threw another one at Jensen. "Both of you." Jared caught it in midair and tore the wrapper off. They ate in silence as Bobby pulled up to a random motel. Jared was again struck by a sense of familiarity by this…except this wasn't a script. It was all real. He gulped the last of the granola bar down and chugged the water he was handed.

"This is pretty new to me too you know," Bobby said after a while. He sighed and turned the key to the ignition before pulling it out. "You boys look like them and I end up forgetting." Then he got out of the truck before either could say anything.

Jensen snorted. "Well that's not awkward at all."

Jared rubbed his face wearily and laughed. "Yeah not at all," he agreed as they got out and followed the hunter into the motel.

The room was cheap and predictably, sucked. It was a modern size room with plain curtains and dry white walls. There was a small TV set against the wall and a desk on the other side, a small dresser with a lamp on top next to two queen size beds and a couple chairs at one corner, a small fridge in the kitchen area, a closet to hang clothes and a bathroom next to it.

The only furniture that looked relatively comfortable aside from the beds was a dark green plush looking couch that was currently occupied with a 6'1 body stretched out, flicking channels lazily with the remote. Jensen shot Jared a smirk before going back to channel surfing. It was nearly three am. Jared flopped back on a bed as he heard sink water running from the bathroom. Bobby's head peeked out after a few minutes and said, "You boys okay with staying here?"

Jared blinked before shooting back up in a sitting position, tried not to wince at the jolt in his back at the abrupt movement. "What? Dude, you said we could come with!"

"I did say that and you did come with," Bobby said. "You're here in Brookings with me now."

"We're at a motel," Jared pointed out.

"We're cool here," Jensen said from the couch. He shrugged when Jared shot him a glare.

Bobby sighed. "Look this hunting business is dangerous stuff. I don't normally take civilians along but you're a special case."

Jared shot off the bed, clenched his hands to fists. "We're not exactly civilians you know."

Bobby raised an eyebrow as if saying _oh yeah_? So Jared pressed on, "Yeah. We've been working Supernatural for years. We've been doing what Sam and Dean have been doing for years. Ji…Bobby, man, taking down a werewolf…that ain't easy, right? It isn't like a typical salt and burn, right? Right. So that means you might need a hand."

"Your hand?" Bobby glanced at the two men in amusement. "You talk a good game, Padalecki, but you boys ain't real hunters. Playing pretend don't automatically make you pro shots. Bet you don't even know how to shoot a gun." Jared said nothing, knew the hunter was right and Bobby took the silence as an answer. He closed the bathroom door and took a shower.

Jensen turned around to face Jared when the shower could be heard. "Why do you wanna hunt so bad anyway?"

Jared sighed and sat back down on the edge of the bed. He shrugged and looked Jensen straight in the eyes with a tired grin and said, "Just you know, wouldn't it be fun to get a last bit adventure before going home tomorrow? Something to rub in Misha's face or something. It's stupid, I know, but…"

Jensen chuckled. That was an image of Misha they both would like to see when they retold all what happened to them. Jared could see Misha's eyes bulging out of their sockets as he told the details of an up close and personal encounter of a werewolf. He didn't have to believe them. His expression would be more than enough. "Yeah, I guess that'd be something. Still you know we never handled a real gun before."

"Yeah. Like I said, it was a stupid idea," Jared said.

"Right. Whatever." He flipped past the weather channel for the third time. Bobby got out in a clean plaid shirt and jeans. He shuffled past the TV and put on his hunting boots and cap.

He looked back at the two as he headed for the door, brows furrowed together. "You boys gonna be alright here?"

Jensen waved him off. "Yeah, yeah we're both adults here. We'll be fine."

Bobby looked to Jared. "We'll be fine," Jared echoed.

"Right. My number's on the paper on the desk if either of you need anything." Then he was gone.

Jensen shut the TV off and moved over to the unoccupied bed. "You sure you're alright just sitting here?"

Jared grimaced. "No, not really. But he's right…Bobby that is. We'd be more a liability than help. Besides," he turned a rueful grin to Jensen, "I'm not particularly keen on meeting up with a werewolf up close and personal."

Jensen laughed and turned off the lamplight, letting the darkness descend into the room. The moon shone brightly outside the motel window.


	4. Part 4

**Part 4**

Sunlight flooded in from the window the next morning startling Jensen into the land of the living. He gave a groan that sounded suspiciously like it belonged to that zombie flick _Night of the Living Dead_. He rolled over, twisted under the warm bed sheets, head protectively covered by the pillows. Someone grabbed the bed sheets and tossed them off the bed. Shivering from the sudden chill in the room, Jensen attempted to snatch them back but the pillows were suddenly pulled from under his arm.

Jensen lay curled on the bed, wished he didn’t take off the jacket last night. He was in nothing but jeans and an under shirt, had dumped his jacket into the closet before going to bed, same as his socks and shoes. He glared up at a bright eyed, grinning Jared Padalecki already getting his dose of morning coffee. The man offered a mug to Jensen who sat up immediately and took it, drinking deeply. Jared took residence on the couch, legs crossed as he lay stretched, all 6’4 of him. It was a ridiculous sight Jensen had to admit, the couch was only 5 and a half feet long.

“Jim back yet?” Jensen asked finally once he finished half the mug, feeling refreshed and less grumpy.

Jared shrugged, didn’t seem too bothered as he looked around the room for signs of the hunter. “Doesn’t look like it. I mean it’s only, like, you know, nine. If he’s hunting a werewolf or whatever it’ll probably take him more than a few hours. I mean…the show, we make it look easy, ya know? We only have, what? Forty minutes of air time? So we have to finish everything by then.” Jared tapped his chin thoughtfully. “So like I guess in real life, everything’s harder. Ya know?”

There wasn’t much to say to that logic so Jensen just shrugged. “I guess.” He was still having a tough time believing this was real life. He half expected to wake up on the set, Eric and the crew looming over him with feral grins asking _well, you two get your beauty sleep, princess, forget we had a show to run_? He half expected to see Misha with his iphone out, snickering, saying between fits of giggles, _OK you got me, it was me, I did it, I spiked the punch, forgive me man but this was so funny, I had to, I’m sorry but I had to, oh man the looks on your faces_. He rubbed his face tiredly, stared into his mug. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. But aren’t you, at all, worried?”

He heard the rustle of fabric as Jared uncrossed his legs and shifted on the couch to get into a more comfortable position. “I guess I am a little. I mean, come on, man, he may be a hell of a hunter but he’s human, you know?”

Jensen nodded as he took another sip. The coffee wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good either. “Yeah I get you. When do you think he’ll return?”

“Beats me.” Jared paused for a moment. “You know we’re going back today.”

Jensen knew, oh yeah, he knew. It was all he could think about since they found themselves in this mess. He wondered idly what the Winchester brothers were doing in their world, hoped Dean and Sam Winchester didn’t mess with too much, tamper with too much. He hoped he didn’t have to explain to Misha about his erratic behavior, his sudden channeling of Dean Winchester practically the entire day even when they weren’t doing takes. He paled as he considered a whole mental list of what Dean Winchester could have gotten up to.  


Jared must have been thinking the same thing, or something similar because he suddenly let out a groan and said, “God, if we’re here, Sam and Dean are at the set, with the crew. Dude my wallet, the cards, fucking _Gen_.”

It took a moment for Jensen to wonder why Jared put an emphasis on Gen like it was a big deal, but then he realized who she was, who she played, and yeah, okay, it might or might not be a big deal. _Ruby_. Right. Ruby the demon. Ruby the demonic bitch that strung Sammy Winchester along for a good chunk of the series. He thought about it and the longer he thought, the more he had the urge to snicker at the sheer irony of the situation was until he couldn’t suppress it anymore and he had to look back down into his mug to escape the look of utter disbelief and annoyance on Jared’s face.

“It’s not that funny,” Jared said sullenly from the couch, sipping the last remnants of his coffee.

Jensen shrugged and said smugly, “It actually really is. Sam Winchester and Ruby, man. Think about it.”

“They’re just characters,” Jared shot back. “It’s not like I’m really Sam and she’s Ruby.”

“Tell that to Sam Winchester when he realizes he’s married to Ruby in another world.”

Jared scowled before getting up to dump the empty mug into the sink. “Yeah. Whatever. It’s not like I had him in mind when I decided to marry Gen. _Oh what would my TV counterpart think if I married the woman who played as the bitch that manipulated him the entire series? Maybe he’ll see the irony in this!_ ” He said it in an annoyingly high pitched voice that did nothing to ruin Jensen’s mood. He dissolved into another fit of laughter and Jared threw his hands up in frustration, the universal sign of _Why do I even bother_? Jensen really had no clue.

The rest of the morning seemed to drag, Jared was sat in front of the TV, quiet and sullen, worrying over a situation they were both helpless to do anything about. Jensen was sure Sam Winchester had more sense to realize how strange and utterly bizarre the situation was and would not give quickly into impulses he wasn’t so sure Dean was immune to. Dean Winchester was the brother that had Jensen more worried about. The guy lived on instincts to survive, he was prone to act now, think later. Jensen would know. He played the guy, he _made_ the guy, he was in his head, he walked in his shoes, he wore his jacket, felt his emotions and thought his thoughts.

It was a little past noon and nothing had happened, no one came back into the motel with good news or bad news. Jim was still on the hunt and Jared was getting fidgety which in turn put Jensen on edge. “So what now?” Jensen asked for the fifth time. He saw Jared’s eye give a miniscule twitch, if you blinked you’d have missed it. It was beginning to be one of Jensen’s favorite pastimes. He was bored and annoying Jared was fun.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you watch TV while I see what’s going on with Bobby?” Jared had already made it half way to the motel phone before Jensen had the chance to protest. 

Jensen flicked the TV on. He wasn’t really one for TV, he hardly watched Supernatural back in the real world and just as he figured there wasn’t much on to begin with. The motel had only a handful of channels, the typical news channel, a weather channel, a guide to the motel and maybe one entertainment channel that ran chick flicks 24/7. He turned the TV off and fell back on the bed. He could hear Jared dialing Jim-Bobby’s number, a few minutes of silence after that which told Jensen he got the automated voice mail instead.

“Hey Bobby, it’s me Jared Padalecki. Was wondering how the hunt was going. Hope everything’s okay over there.” He paused, took a deep breath and kept going. “We’re still back at the motel, me and Jensen. Nothing’s happened so far. Gonna give it a few more hours, but we might have to call on Cas. It’s prayers, right? We pray and he answers? Well I think I’ll give it a shot. See ya later, man.” Jared gave a breathy laugh. “Or if things go well, not see ya later. Yeah okay, I’m hanging up now. Bye.”

There was a click and Jensen assumed he hung up. “Think uh, Misha, Castiel, Cas, whatever, think he’ll be able to help us?”

Jared shrugged as he stared down at the phone, slumped against the wall, shoulders hunched the same way as he would if he was Sam. “I dunno, man, I dunno. I sure as hell hope so.” He looked up at Jensen and for the first time since they landed here, where ever the hell they were, Jensen felt the utter hopelessness of the situation. He swallowed audibly. “I just, I just can’t get rid of this feeling here,” he gestured to his lower abdomen, “in my guts, you know? Like we were supposed to have already been back by now and something just went terribly wrong.”

Jensen didn’t say anything for a moment because yeah he felt it too, something dark churning in the pits of his stomach, made him queasy. He gave a halfhearted grin instead and said finally, “You’re worrying too much, man. Sam Winchester’s rubbing off on you.” Then he made a show of looking at his watch, showed it to Jared. “It hasn’t even been a full day. We got here at four yesterday,” he announced loudly. Jared shot him a skeptical look and he continued, “We still got a couple hours before we can start panicking.”

Jared went quiet for a moment then shrugged and said, “Yeah. Okay.” It didn’t sound like he believed Jensen, couldn’t say he even blamed him for the lack of enthusiasm but Jensen was grateful Jared dropped the topic at least, even if now he wasn’t saying anything to Jensen.

At two in the afternoon, they got a call from Jim/Bobby telling them not to worry, said he hoped everything would go as planned back there as well, though when Jared put him on speaker Jensen could hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice same as it had been with Jared and he tried to ignore it, to squash that feeling that was growing bigger and bigger in his guts that persisted that something was going to go horribly, terribly wrong.

“Ya’ll okay on food there?”

Jensen had dug into the refrigerator that morning and took out some turkey slices and made a sandwich. It didn’t have much, just came with the essentials and for a cheap motel room that was something. He was a bit wary of the already open milk carton and when Jared saw the same as he did, he took it out and dumped everything into the sink. So they didn’t have milk but they had beer and coffee. What more could anyone want?

“We’re fine,” he said into the phone.

There was a grunt on the end of the phone and Jensen could hear movement, a gun being fired, some shouts that didn’t sound like any human he ever heard and he realized they caught him in the middle of the hunt. It was weird not being there to witness the fight, only heard the aftermaths of a gun going off, of the silver bullet hitting its mark, of something clawing at the hunter in retaliation. Jared was quiet on the other side of the table, staring into the phone like if he tried hard enough he’d be teleported to the fight.

“Good. Look boys, I gotta go.” There was a hesitance in his voice, he had gone quiet for a moment and Jensen tried to imagine that Jim or Bobby, whichever, had paused in the middle of fighting with a contemplative look on his face as he tried to sort out his answer in his head, that the monster stopped along with him with a look of utter bewilderment. It was a laughable image, something only found in cartoons these days and sure enough, there were more shots fired on the other end, a squeal, huffs of breaths, feet pounding on pavement like Jim was running. “You take care.” Then the click that told them both he hung up on them.

Jensen was still trying to get the image of Jim Beaver, their Jim Beaver, with a rifle being chased by a real werewolf with fur and claws and fangs out of his head when he heard Jared slam the phone on the receiver. He looked up in surprise. “Dude,” he said.

Jared sighed and ran his hand through his hair, turned to look Jensen in the eyes. There was a set to his jaw, a determination shining in hazel eyes, like he made up his mind about something. “You heard him, man. He was running from whatever it was he was hunting.”

“Yeah, so?” Jensen could feel his heart pounding. The _thud_ , _thud_ , _thud_ of it was fast, like it would explode out of his chest if it went any faster. He sucked in a deep breath, tried to make sense of what Jared was saying. 

Jared was already putting on his sneakers as Jensen got himself back under control. He looked like Sam Winchester but at the same time Jared was far from him it was hilarious. Sneakers instead of combat boots, weaponless and an easy target, he had no idea what they would be walking into, had no idea where to go. They were both as defenseless as kids.

“We’re going to help him, Ackles. Because it’s the fucking right thing to do and because he’s already helping us and come on, man, where’s your sense of adventure?” Jared said as he suddenly turned back to him.

Jensen opened his mouth in a gape before pointing out they had no clue where Jim even was. “He didn’t say anything about his location! We have no idea, man. No. Idea. Plus this isn’t the set. This is a city. A real city. A fucking big city,” he said. It was kind of funny to Jensen he had been doing nothing but playing Devil’s Advocate since they got here but considering Jared’s over enthusiasm to things, it shouldn’t have come as much a surprise.

Jared only grinned like he already thought about that and Jensen needed to get with the program already. It only made Jensen want to scowl because it was a reasonable thing to consider. “We have a celestial being on our shoulder, Ackles. An _all-knowing_ celestial being might I add.” He put emphasis on the all-knowing part and Jensen stood back on his heels with a scowl as Jared prayed to Castiel. _Misha_ really. If or when they got back, Jensen was going to omit this part. The smug bastard didn’t need an ego boost.

Misha appeared, literally blink-and-you’d-miss-it _appeared_ , behind Jared. It was pretty unnerving if you asked Jensen.

He cocked his head to the side in that bizarre Castiel way, a small frown tugging at his lips as he considered the two men that for the moment replaced Sam and Dean Winchester. Jared jumped a few inches off the ground in surprise and Jensen had to cover a snicker into an awkward fist.

“You are still here,” Misha deadpanned. If Jensen hadn’t been working with the real Misha for years he had thought this guy wasn’t surprised but as it was, he worked with the actor, knew the actor, knew all the facial tics that told him what he was really thinking and this Castiel guy was hella surprised, like he thought he would come back to a room full of hunters by now but was instead greeted with the lame counterparts. It irked Jensen a little, that he and Jared were a disappointment to come back to.

Jared shifted awkwardly on his feet, his eyes dropped to the carpet like he felt and heard and saw the surprise and disappointment too and wasn’t too sure what to make of it, what to do about it. “Yeah,” he said finally, looked back into Misha’s eyes. “We, uh, want you to take us to Bobby Singer.”

The angel guy was quiet for a moment, mulled the request over, then looked back to Jared with a stare that made Jensen wonder if angels really could see straight into your soul. “Why do you want me to take you to Bobby Singer?”

Jensen had to give props to Jared for not backing down under the scrutiny of the angel of Thursday. Misha sure knew how to pull off a poker face. “He might be in trouble. We wanted to help him, you know, in thanks for helping us instead of leaving us in a ditch somewhere.” Jared was channeling awkward college kid Sam Winchester now. He had the awkward lift and drop of his shoulders down pat.

The angel squinted at him, then finally glanced at Jensen standing a few feet away from them by the bed. He sighed, the first real emotion Jensen saw from the angel by far. It was weird thinking of Misha and Castiel as two separate people, angel, whatever. He found himself trying to compare the two every chance he got. But then he would realize, no, Misha wouldn’t do that or that, he wouldn’t play him like that. Castiel was an angel, one that had fallen for Dean, for Sam, for the rest of humanity on the show.

 _This is why I’m an actor and not a shrink_ , he thought.

“I do not think this is a good idea,” the angel said to Jared. “You are technically, by Dean Winchester’s terms, ‘civilians’.” There were air quotes around civilians and Jensen couldn’t help the snort that got out. It was funny, god damn hilarious, because it was so true.

“Take us to him anyway,” he found himself saying, feeling a little Dean Winchester suddenly.

“He is hunting a Rugaru,” Misha/Castiel continued, like the warning was supposed to be enough for them to change their minds. It kind of was. Jensen didn’t really want to get any more involved than was necessary and the way he had been told things, that they just had to stay in the motel and let things ride out, he was more than happy to do just that. But if Jim or Bobby was in trouble, well character or not, he was real and if he died while they sat back in the crummy motel, well, Jensen wasn’t ready for that kind of guilt just yet.

“Yeah. Okay. Come on,” Jared said, taking a deep breath. “We’re not gonna back off, man, so let’s just do this thing.” 

The angel sighed and beckoned them over. “Yes, I’m beginning to realize that now. Come then. Come here so I can touch you two.” Which wasn’t a weird thing to say at all. An awkward silence descended and Castiel coughed into a fist. He beckoned to them again and said, “I have to be touching you two to move you.”

Shrugging Jensen and Jared moved closer. Castiel touched their foreheads and closed his eyes and a brilliant light engulfed the room, in the blink of an eye all three were gone.

 

Angel travel was weird was all Jensen could figure. It was like one moment he was closing his eyes, felt the light pressure of fingers on his forehead and he was just waiting for something to happen, to feel the ground under his feet try to swallow him down in a vortex of some kind, feel the wind brush through his hair, the ray of sunlight heating his skin but he got none of that. Blink once, you miss it. One moment they were all in the cramped motel room, the next he was sitting on his butt on cold, hard pavement, shielding his eyes from the unfiltered sunlight dancing heated rays on him. It was cold outside and he realized a little too late he forgot his jacket. 

He and Jared had been in the middle of an argument, Jared had already put on his shoes, by the time either thought to call down Castiel and truth be told, when Jared announced he would, pray to the angel that was, Jensen hadn’t thought it would work so he didn’t bother getting ready. But it had and he was outside in the cool breeze in nothing but a tee shirt and jeans with holes in them, socks too, he couldn’t forget those. He wiggled his toes for good measure, wondered if it was too late to ask the angel to take him back so he could grab his jacket and sneakers.

His old sneakers were dumped on the ground in front of him and Jensen squinted up to see Jared’s large bulk looming over him like a sinister shadow. With a mumbled thanks he put his shoes on. He got up and looked around. They were outside somewhere, Jensen got that right. In front of some warehouse it seemed. Castiel was nowhere to be seen, like he had taken off as soon as he dumped them there. Jared saw the silent question in Jensen’s eyes and said simply, “Angel business.”

Right, like that was all he needed to know what was going on. Which he did. They had been in the middle of season six, Castiel’s season as Jensen dubbed it. Misha had been pleased with the script, getting to play a range of characters; psycho, God, fallen angel looking for redemption, you name it Misha played it.

“Hey, hey, Ackles,” there was something in his voice Jensen couldn’t figure, made him look up sharply, jolted from his thoughts. And he saw Jared point at something behind Jensen, said, “Look behind you, man.” And just as Jensen whirled around, he heard it, a low, terrifyingly close growl that couldn’t possibly come from any human, he gulped.


	5. The Winchester Side: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **On the other side**   
>  **The Supernatural Set**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue has been rewritten for the most part and things don't _exactly_ happen the way they did in the episode.

**Part 1**

"Dude, like what the hell?" Dean complained to Sam as they landed on the ground on their asses. They fell. From a fucking window. He looked over to his brother who was already pushing himself up. Dean didn't like his wide eyed, open mouthed gape, not one bit, didn't like that Sam was, for one in his freaking life, speechless. He pushed himself up as well and looked to where his brother was gaping at. "I'll, ah, say it again. _Dude_. What. The. Hell." Because seriously, what was up with all the gawkers and cameras and stuff pointed at them?

Sam nudge him in the side with a pointy elbow. "Uh, I…uh, uhm, not, uh, not angels? Right? Not angels, right?"

If Dean wasn't too busy in his own panic attack, he'd be worried about Sam's sudden stuttering problem, probably suggest he see a therapist or something. But as it was, Dean wasn't really faring much better, because seriously…

"Uh, yeah, not angels…I think?" It came out a little uncertainly as Dean floundered for words. Just where the hell did that nut Balthazar send them to?

"So…" Sam said slowly, biting his lips as he looked around. "So, no killing? Right?" He looked back to Dean to see what his brother made of their situation. Dean was still busy taking in the faces peering out at them, trying to figure who was the biggest threat, if there even was a threat. Finally seeing none, Dean gave a helpless shrug.

"No killing," he echoed.

The gawkers had long since stopped staring outright at them, Dean noticed some whispering to each other now, tensed up as if expecting some surprise attack. None came. After a few minutes of standing there awkwardly, the man in the chair called loudly, "Moving on!"

And then before either brother knew what was happening, they were being pulled in opposite directions by strange women and Dean couldn't hide his surprise as he was tugged away from Sam, the look mirrored by his brother.

That had all happened hours ago. Dean and Sam found out just a little while after they had landed on a set, a TV series set and it was called Supernatural and Dean was supposedly this guy called Jensen Ackles and Sam was a dude called Jared Padalecki and they weren't brothers in this life, they weren't even friends really, they had been on a no speaking term, which was odd in itself if these two dudes were the main cast playing freaking brothers and the guy running this thing was named freaking Bobby Singer, like their Bobby Singer with the capital 'B' and 'S' and everything. Dean had come to realize by now he hated this world. He hated it with a passion.

He hated this Jensen Ackles guy he was supposed to be, he hated Jared Padalecki, he hated everything. And come on could the dude get even wussier? Playing in a freaking soap opera? It was one thing to never admit you watched and secretly liked soap operas and it was a whole another level completely to act in one. And what kind of name was Jensen anyway? Did the guy's parents just jam together two names and called it a night?

"Okay, so how do you propose we get home?" Sam asked as he plopped down to sit next to his brother in a recliner chair they had on set.

Dean thought about it. "What about using the same spell Balthazar used to send us here?"

"Yeah, okay, that could work. The only problem though is getting the stuff for it," Sam said.

Dean let out a small groan. There was always, _always_ a problem. He was about to toss his brother a snide remark when one of the cast came up behind him. Dean noticed the looming shadow over him and turned to see a grinning Misha on his iphone. Yeah. Okay. Cas with an iphone. It would have been more humorous to Dean had he not started to hate this world. Serious what was with these people? The brothers had barely a moment together without being pulled to this place or that.

"Hey Jensen, hey Jared," Misha greeted, held up his iphone and snapped another picture. "Hope you don't mind. It's for my Twitter followers. I call them my minions."

Dean stared at him for a second, bewildered, then looked over to Sam who was still gawking at the guy like he grew another head or something. When Sam turned to stare back at him, he whispered, "Why is Cas weird in every form? I mean seriously, 'minions'? Dude."

"Yeah I know what you mean," Sam mumbled.

Misha grinned at them and took a picture of Sam. "What was that?"

"Uh, nothing. Nothing, man," Sam said loudly.

"Right. Okay. Awkward. So this is for Youtube. Say hi to your fans, guys."

Dean looked from Misha, to the iphone, then to Sam. He got up, stretched his back a little and grabbed his brother, hauling him up to his feet. "Uh, I just remembered, we, uh, got somewhere we got to be. Right, um, Jared?" He nudged his brother as Misha stared wide eyed back.

"Yeah, uh, yeah somewhere important, man," Sam said.

Dean stomped off the set with his brother close at his heels. Misha just shrugged and turned the iphone around. He said seriously, "And that, ladies and gent, was J2. I have no idea what they were smoking lately."

"Seriously, man, isn't there anywhere we can talk in private?" Dean complained.

Sam shrugged. "Dude, it's a TV show set. There's no such thing as private when you're actors."

"This is stupid. Everything here is stupid. I want to go home, Sammy. I hate this place."

Dean watched his brother sigh and run his hand through his hair. "I know, I know, Dean. And me too. I want to go home as much as you do but we still don't have the ingredients for the spell. We have to get them to make the spell first, and then we can go back."

"What do you think is so important with the key anyhow?"

Sam pulled the key out of jeans, stared at it for a moment, then shrugged. "I dunno. Open a door obviously?" he half joked.

Dean snorted as Sam pocketed it again. He shoved his hands into his jeans. "Okay, so what do we need?"

"Uh, right, I think I remember. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To a computer," Sam replied. "Come on."

A few minutes later found the brothers seated in one of the many Impalas on set. Dean was not pleased, but it was a car at least. The faster they got out of here, the faster they could grab the ingredients and make the spell, and the faster they would be home _sweet home_. Thank fucking god for the internet.

"Why couldn't they be on the damn set?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's a set, Dean. Why would a set have real 'bones of a lesser saint'?"

Dean shrugged and wiped the dirt from the windshield. Stupid people and their dirt, messing with the Impala like that. Granted it wasn't the real deal, but it was still an Impala, and all Impalas deserved to be treated with respect, not with this crap all over it. Just as they reached the end of the parking lot, some kid ran up to them, smacking for all his worth on the window. With an annoyed sigh and a glance to Sam, Dean stopped the car and rolled down the window.

"Dude, what?"

The kid motioned them out of the car. Dean huffed and got out, Sam not too far behind. "Dude, what?" he repeated in a more annoyed voice, used his height to tower over the kid.

The kid just smiled and looked at the car, patted it, and said, "Oh thank god that you stopped, man. I would've been in so much trouble if you just took the prop."

Dean leaned into the kid's personal bubble, irked by the thought of the Impala being called a prop, because come on, it was the Impala. "Oh yeah, dude?"

The kid backed up a step, suddenly nervous by his close proximity. "Yeah, dude. Props aren't supposed to leave the set."

Dean leaned back. "How the hell are we supposed to get out of here then?"

Seriously. This place was just messed up, backwards, upside down, whatever you wanted to call it. Dean liked movies, sure, he liked movie sets. He also liked the idea of being an actor in another life, doing something normal. This place seemed pretty safe so far, annoying, but definitely safer. Sam seemed to think the same too. But man, when he imagined not hunting, doing something relatively safe, it somehow did not go like this. Dean was sure he was a people person. He spent a lot time around people during his hunting days. _Saving people, hunting things_ , that wasn't just something he said to annoy Sam. Those words held meaning, was the truth and in order to save people from the things that went bump in the night, well, you couldn't exactly do that without being around them.

But they also didn't constantly bother you when you wanted some alone time, or when you wanted to talk to your brother in private. Seriously, how people managed it in Hollywood without losing their heads, Dean would never know. He didn't want to know. And now he wanted to get the hell out of here, pronto.

"Want me to drop you off, Jensen?" Cliff asked from the front.

Dean snapped out of his thoughts and shot a sideways glance to his brother. There was no way he was separating from the kid, not in this messed up upside down world, no way, nu uh. "Uh, well, can't I just, you know, go with uh," Dean hesitated, forgot the name of not-Sam. Cliff stared at him through the rearview mirror.

Sam hissed to him, "Jared. Jared Padalecki."

And Dean found himself nodding. "I'll, uh, stick with Jared."

Cliff mulled over his words for a moment before shrugging. "Yeah. Okay. Suit yourself." His expression turned strange.

"What?" Dean demanded.

Cliff shrugged again as he turned the car. "Just, you know, glad you two aren't at each other's throats for once. Seems almost like you're friends or something. It's nice, a nice change, that's all."

Sam gulped audibly beside him and Dean clenched his hands into fists. They shot each other wary looks, hoping they didn't mess up too badly with their "newfound" attitudes. When they reached Sam's, not-Sam's, whoever's house, Dean couldn't help but gawk. The dude didn't own a house with white picket fence in some regular Joe neighborhood, nah man, he owned a mansion, the biggest freaking mansion Dean ever saw. He looked back at his brother and raised his eyebrows, couldn't hide how impressed he was for Sam, well his counterpart, to land this, like holy shit, the place came with a gate and security cameras and locks and you name it.

Dean gave a low whistle as he got out and stood in the driveway, taking in the number of cars parked up there, just waiting for Sam. Eagerly he waited for his brother to get out of the car and see all this too, feel the same level of giddiness Dean was feeling and he wondered, vaguely, what this Jensen Ackles person's house looked like, if he had the same expensive taste, if he had something even bigger, with more garages and cars and locks and cameras, he wondered about it until he heard his brother open the car door and step out and closed the door with a loud clank and then he looked over his shoulder and took in Sam's own expression of awe and longing and a tad hint of envy all mixed in a sea of hazel.

"Dude," he whispered, "you're the fucking shit in this place."

And as soon as he said that, as soon as Sam snapped out of his own reverie and turned to stare at his brother with eyes wide and eyebrows raised past his bangs, Dean knew he said something weird, snapped his mouth closed, pursed his lips, squinted back with a look that said _did I really just say that_?

Sam just cackled and slapped him on the shoulder, said, "Yeah, man. I totally am." Then he moved away and was opening the door, pushing past it as he made his way into the house, leaving Dean hanging back, confused, slightly disturbed and just wishing they were already back home with Cas and dick angels and even that stupid Crowley guy.


	6. Part 5

**Part 5**

“Hey, hey, Ackles. Look behind you, man.” And Jensen saw Jared point to something behind him, something menacing and terrifying and not human, ‘cos that growl, low and close, so close it made a shiver run down Jensen’s spine, the growl was definitely not human, couldn’t be.

He whirled around, heart beating, thrumming, low and fast, guts aching, something like flight or fight coming up to take over his brain and made his eyes dart past Jared, to the warehouse, to the gates, to beyond it, somewhere, anywhere. Reflexively he took a step back, hands coming out placating in the air, the thing in front of them kneeling on all fours, barking and growling like some bizarre half breed of a man and beast, something straight out of a B level horror flick.

“N-nice doggy thing,” Jensen stuttered, deep out of his element.

The hell was Bobby Singer hunting again? This was definitely not a freaking werewolf, unless the real world had some grossly misconception of them. He backed up another step into Jared and felt him shift slightly from behind him, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, or at least attempted to be reassuring because Jensen was not reassured in the least.

“I, uh, think we need to get out of here,” Jared said lowly into his ear.

Jensen didn’t even acknowledge that with a scowl. He took a couple more slow steps back, pulling Jared with him as the human slash monster dog made more snarling noises and met their strides. “You think?”

The monster lunged just as Jared shoved past him and shouted, “ **RUN**!”

Like Jensen needed to be told twice. Seriously. Jensen scrambled out of the way of the monster’s lunge and heard a loud CLANK as it clamped its jaws around the chained fence instead of a limb. He shuddered as he got up to his feet and ran like hell after Jared who was already at the warehouse, tugging free the old iron door. He motioned for Jensen to come over, flailing his hands like some weird distress signal.

“This is your fault,” Jensen panted, doubled over trying to catch his breath once they were safely inside, the door shut and locked, in case…in case the monster could pick locks or some other weird shit, because Supernatural had always been bizarre like that. He jabbed a finger into Jared’s arm for good measure. “Your fault.”

Jared rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his jeans, scuffed his shoes into the pavement, looking every bit a sullen teenager. Jensen stared at him for a moment, then said loudly, “You’re ridiculous, you know. This whole thing is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“I’m serious here, Padalecki. That…that thing out there, it wasn’t some regular Joe guy, it wasn’t some dog, hell, I don’t even know what it was! And it fucking freaks me out and it’s out there, still. It’s trying to get in. Can’t you hear it? Trying to claw its way in?” Jensen knew a freak out when he heard it, knew one when he could freaking feel it, but even putting a label on what was happening to him right then didn’t help any, didn’t make the situation any less freaky. It just kind of made him want to freak out even more. When he looked back at Jared, he saw that he was chewing nervously on his bottom lip. Yeah. Jensen wasn’t the only one that was having his own break down, he wasn’t alone, he still had Jared, and somehow even with that knowledge, it didn’t make him feel better any.

“Yeah, I can hear it.” Jared had been quiet for so long that when he did manage to talk, his voice low like a whisper, Jensen jumped. Jared’s eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly, tongue darted out to lick away the dryness he felt. He looked imploringly at Jensen. “What do we do?”

What could they do? They were weaponless. They were trapped. And even if they weren’t either of those things, Jensen never shot off a gun before, and he knew from the looks of that thing there was not a chance in hell he could manage to outrun it long enough to climb into someone’s car and try to jumpstart it. Besides he didn’t know how to do that either. Good god they were hopeless. They were going to die here, before they could go back home.

He slumped to the floor with a feeling a newer level, a deeper level of hopelessness take over him. He looked up to an equally exhausted Jared and said, “We, uh, I guess we just wait here and hope it gets bored or Jim finds us or something. What can we even do, man?” It was an honest question and he tried not to put some desperation in it, even if that was how he felt right now.

Jared sighed and scratched the side of his face. “I wish one of us brought our cell phone.”

Jensen snorted. Yeah he had left his back in the trailer. No one took their phones with them on set anymore, except Misha, because he was just a freak like that, always had to have it out and ready in case something extra funny happened and it needed to be filmed for Twitter or Youtube or whatever.

“So we’re just waiting to get eaten,” Jared huffed out a laugh as he crouched next to Jensen. “Awesome.”

“Like I said before, this is your fault,” Jensen said, because it totally was. It was Jared’s idea to come here and get eaten and that was that, Jensen wasn’t budging on that.

Jared’s only response was a snort. “Right. My fault,” he drawled. He stood up suddenly so he was towering over Jensen. Jensen looked up at him, squinted. “You didn’t have to agree you know. You could’ve stayed all happy and safe back in the stupid motel! But you came, Ackles, you fucking came against your ‘good’ judgment.” He put air quotes on _good_ like he didn’t believe Jensen had actually thought that which was absolutely ridiculous and made Jensen mad, made him stand up so he was eye level with the son of bitch trying to pick a fight with him, of all the fucking times and places to do it in too.

“Seriously, Padalecki, you really want to do this now?” Jensen asked in a low voice, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, itching, burning to do something.

“Seriously, Ackles, you really want to do this now?” Jared mocked, his own voice dropping an octave in a somewhat bad parody of Jensen. “Bet you really wanna take a swing at me now, right? ‘Cos you’re always right, that it, Ackles? You’re the better actor, the better friend, the better everything, am I right?” He took a swing at Jensen, missed when Jensen quickly ducked to the ground and got up with a sway, Jared laughed. “Give it up for the great Jensen Ackles, ladies and gent!” Jared gave a mock bow.

Jensen stared at him, at a loss of what to say to all that. “Dude, what the hell is your problem?” The jackass had tried to fucking punch him for Pete’s sake.

“My problem? What’s yours? Don’t fucking play dumb!” Jared shouted, angry. “Ever since the first day you’ve been on your damn horse, Ackles, acting all high and mighty, like the world ain’t worth two cents of your time!” He finally got a punch in as Jensen stood in front of him, immobile, frozen, his expression a mix of disbelief and bewilderment, Jared’s fist connected with his stomach and suddenly Jensen was doubling over, gasping, panting, lungs suddenly not taking in enough air. Jared just stood where he was, angry and panting. 

They stood there, the two of them, neither sure what exactly happened a few minutes ago. Finally, Jared slid back to the ground, a huff of laughter coming from his throat, he shook his head as he looked up at Jensen with an apology in his eyes, like he didn’t understand why he went ape shit, why he punched Jensen in the fucking guts. “I’m sorry, man,” he offered and hung his head. “I dunno what came over me.”

Jensen felt a bubble of hysterical laughter try to escape and swallowed it down like some bad beer. He licked his lips, said, “I’m sorry too. It’s not really your fault. You were just trying to do the right thing here.” He hesitated before putting a comforting hand on Jared’s shoulder, patted him awkwardly. “If it was me deciding stuff, we’d still be stuck out in the middle of nowhere. Probably have starved by now.” He remembered the food at the motel, didn’t have much to eat except one lousy sandwich and a granola bar since they got here, his stomach growled. “For fuck’s sake.”

Jared just made another huffing sound before rising to his feet. “Okay, okay, we need to get it together.” He dusted his pants off for a while, like he didn’t know what else to do with his hands and he needed to do something. Jensen watched him in silence. Finally Jared stopped, turned to face him. “So that, that thing back there. What did Cas call it? Ru something, Rugu, something, I don’t know.”

Jensen thought about it for moment, then snapped his fingers together. “Rugaru, he called it a Rugaru.” He paused and made a face. “When we get back, remind me to strangle the guy that came up with that.”

Jared rubbed his face, laughed, and said, “Yeah, okay. I’ll definitely remind you.” He gave a slight shudder. “Rugaru, right. Now I remember. Okay, man. You remember doing an episode on that?”

“Uh, well, the name sounds familiar, sorta.” Jensen was at a loss. He wished he remembered why it was familiar. Damn it.

Jared’s face was already scrunched up in concentration when he looked back. “That’s what I thought too, that it sounds familiar.” Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “Yeah. That’s it. Season four, man.”

Jensen screwed his face in confusion, the fuck did season four have to do with it? “When I came back from the dead?” he asked incredulously, unsure where Jared was going with this.

Jared sighed and shook his head. “No, no. After you came back, one of our cases. The one with that one guy turning into a Rugaru, you know the guy chowing on food all the time?”

Oh. Oh that, now Jensen remembered. It took a moment for it to really sink in and once it had, Jensen felt his legs turn to Jell-O, pure, floppy Jell-O. Oh god they were in damn trouble now. He stared up at Jared with wide eyes, croaked out, “Yeah.”

 _We’re going to die here_ , Jensen thought for the third time within an hour. They were going to either starve or get eaten. He darted wide eyes to the door, couldn’t help himself, heard the snarl coming from outside and quickly looked away again. Jared was off his ass searching the room for the hundredth time, hoping he had missed something that could take out the thing on the other side. He came back empty handed as usual, sat back in the middle with Jensen, looked down at his hands.

According to what Jensen remembered, the only way to kill a Rugaru was to take it out with fire. Fucking fire. Like Jensen came with a lighter and matches in his pockets like some cigarette addict. Jared made them both dump out all the contents from their pockets anyway, _incase either of us brought one to the set for whatever reason and forgot_ , he shrugged after he said that. When Jensen scowled at him and pulled out lint and more lint, Jared simply said, “I wouldn’t have judged you even if you did turn out to be a secret addict.”

Yeah. Whatever. Jensen hadn’t missed the slight disappointment in his eyes when they both turned out to be clean, he wanted to catch Jensen with something, some dark secret, maybe something illegal, something good to blackmail his co-star with later. Jensen couldn’t help the irritated twitch of his eye at the thought. There was a monster, a fucking monster, sitting right outside the door waiting for them to get bored and let it in and Jared fucking Padalecki was looking for something blackmail Jensen with. How much more childish could you possibly get than that?

“So I’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing, there’s nothing in this place to kill that thing outside,” Jared said leaning his head against a couple cardboard boxes, he had both arms behind his head casually, his legs crossed at the ankles.

Jensen rubbed the heel of a palm to his forehead. “Yeah,” he said tiredly, “that pretty much sums up our situation.” _Hopeless and dead_.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. “How about we just knock it out and run? Get to a car, or a payphone, call Bobby maybe and see where he’s at. Maybe he’ll come and help us kill this thing.” They had been tossing ideas back and forth, well, Jared had been, Jensen was content to tell him why each of his idea was plain idiotic and would just get them both killed faster.

“First of all, what are we gonna use to knock the sucker out with? And secondly, what good is a car if neither of us know how to hotwire one? Bobby’s just gonna chew our heads off while the thing’s out, by the time he decides to save our hides, it’ll be up and about, and you know what happens then? We’re dead, dog chow, mince meat, whatever you want to call it, buddy!” He paused in his rant as he thought about it some more, brows furrowed, Jensen snapped his fingers. “Dude, forget Bobby, call Misha, Cas, whatever. The angel dude. Call him.”

Jared stared at him for a moment and Jensen snapped his fingers again, in his face. Jared frowned, shook his head. “Naw, can’t. I tried already. Wouldn’t answer.” Jensen sent him an incredulous look to which Jared just shrugged. “Told you already, ‘angel business’, civil war, you know.”

“Oh. Right.” Jensen shook his head, cursed under his breath. Fucking angel war story line, go figure.

“Anyway,” Jared said, getting up to his feet suddenly, “dude I can so hotwire a car.” He turned a shark like grin down to Jensen, flashed white pearls and all.

Jensen gaped at him as he shot up to his feet just as Jared picked up a discarded pipe line. He looked from the pipe line to Jared. Jared’s grin turned smug, pointed up to the ceiling and Jensen followed his gaze. “You gotta be kidding me,” he said with a groan. “You don’t suppose there’d be any more of those things just lying around?” 

Jared shook his head as he slung the pipe over one broad shoulder, “Naw, seems like you’re gonna have to get behind me, _princess_.” Oh for the love of…

Jensen scowled, punched Jared in the arm as he barked a laugh. “For fuck’s sake, Padalecki. Give me the damn thing.”

“No way.” He tried to duck out of reach as Jensen took hold of the end of the pipe. “Get off. Dude, fucking get off.” Jared tried to shake Jensen off but he wouldn’t let go, he kicked his foot and managed to snag the fabric of his tee shirt with his sneaker, it collided sharply into Jensen’s stomach. The wind was knocked out of him, but still Jensen managed to hang on, struggling to push Jared’s sneaker away at the same time.

“Give me it, Padalecki,” he gasped out, managed to shove Jared’s foot off. He tugged at the pipe but Jared just pulled it back with a strength of a bull that sent Jensen stumbling back into the pile of cardboard boxes. He landed on his ass with a thud. “Ugh…Jesus, man, could you throw me a little harder? I think I broke my hip bone or something.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault. I told you to let go,” Jared said indignantly.

Jensen let out a pitiful groan and managed to get back to his feet, a trembling hand rubbing the side of his hip. “Whatever. Like I wanted to risk my life to play Clark Kent anyway,” he grumbled.

Jared snorted as they made their way over to the door. “If I’m Superman, does that make you that lame ass bitch, Lois Lane?”

Jensen wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer. Instead he turned to face Jared once they got to the door, cocked his head to the side a little, “Ready?” He watched Jared’s grip on the pipe tighten, saw the almost imperceptible nod, that small jerk of the head. He took a deep breath in, steeled himself for what was waiting for them just on the other side of the door and let Jared swing the door open, the pipe poised over his shoulder like he was getting ready to swing a baseball bat.

A gust of wind rushed up his face, made him shiver, wished he took his jacket with him. It was late afternoon, the sun was still high in the sky, and Jensen had to squint to see anything in the light. The warehouse had been pretty dark with its one or two flickering light bulbs so it took a moment for the two of them to adjust to the sudden onslaught of sunlight. One thing was crystal clear though, the monster, the Rugaru, was gone, apparently monsters got bored or tired waiting for their meals to come out. Still Jensen tensed as he looked around again. There was no way either of them were going to drop their guard just yet. If you watched any horror movie, you’d know the people to do so were always eaten in the end.

“What do you think, Lois? We in the all clear?” Jared’s voice jerked Jensen back a step.

Ignoring the first comment, Jensen leaned out the doorway casually, peering outside. He shrugged, “Doesn’t look like it’s here still. Only one way to find out if you ask me.”

“Right. Come on then.” Jared picked up the lead again as he took a hesitant step over the open doorway, to the outside. He looked around cautiously as he took a couple more steps out into the open, looked back at Jensen with a lopsided grin when he noticed Jensen was still standing unsure by the door, one foot inside, the other out. “Come on, jerk. You were right—“ 

Something dark and fast darted out from the shadows of the fence. Jared must have heard it the same time Jensen saw it because just like that he cut himself off and spun around in a fast circle just as the shadow collided with him, sending him spiraling down to land on his back with a surprised cry. Jensen had no idea what the hell was happening. He scrambled out of the warehouse and saw the Rugaru snarling and drooling all over Jared, Jared trying to fend it off with the pipe but it seemed more like the Rugaru was pinning him down with it, its human hands pushing it to his stomach, the long sharp nails, claws digging holes into Jared’s shirt. Jensen stood, frozen, immobile at the horrific image before him. He watched Jared struggle weakly against the weight of the Rugaru on him, legs trying to kick out at anything they could.

Jensen jerked back in surprised horror when the Rugaru suddenly darted its monstrous head forward and bit into Jared’s right shoulder, a pained cry torn out of him. Jared flailed even more, his body seemed to convulse as the monster clamped harder on the shoulder, Jensen could see saliva coming from its mouth to drip a little on Jared, the beginning of yellow colored teeth.

He wasn’t sure what he was thinking at this point, maybe he hadn’t been thinking at all, but when he heard another hoarse cry come from Jared, he found himself taking a couple steps forward, heard himself say, “ _J-Jared_?” 

The Rugaru’s head snapped up to look at him. Jensen could see the face clearly now, a surprisingly human face, hazel eyes, small nose, a snarling mouth, teeth that looked like they hadn’t been brushed for weeks, unwashed hair, human. Jared’s head lolled to the side. Jensen wondered if he was imagining the accusation in his eyes as he stared at him, _why aren’t you doing anything_? _Why are you just standing there like a wuss while I’m lying here dying_? No. Jared wasn’t going to die. He couldn’t. Jensen’s eyes darted to the mess of blood that was Jared’s shoulder. It was a lot of blood oozing out but surely not enough…not enough for…

He didn’t get the chance to finish that train of thought though because the monster leapt. _Oh god I’m gonna die right here_. He squeezed his eyes closed and waited.

And waited…and waited…and waited. Nothing had happened. He was still in one piece. Then suddenly he heard a high pitched whine, it almost knocked him flat on his ass. Jensen opened his eyes to see the thing being torched. Bobby Singer was holding a blow torch to it, a grim, determined look on his face. Then he turned slightly, saw Jared lying in a mess of his own blood, the pipe still on his stomach, his face took on a kind of grimace. Then he noticed Jensen just standing a few feet away, frozen in place with fear and shock. Jensen gulped when Bobby’s face twisted into this kind of pissed off look.


	7. Part 6

**Part 6**

“Well just what are you standing ‘round there for? We don’t got all day, boy. Go make sure he ain’t losing more blood while I go grab the med kit from the truck.”

Jensen knew he shouldn’t be just standing there, especially with a pissed off Bobby Singer, especially especially with a bleeding, dying Jared on the ground, but for some reason even with the immediate danger pretty dang fried, he couldn’t seem to get his legs to work. _Come on. One foot out, then the other. Baby steps, Ackles. Just. Fucking. **MOVE**_! That seemed to do it and he suddenly staggered forward, caught himself just in time before he fell flat on his face. He righted himself quickly and darted over to Jared’s bleeding body, knelt over him like he was trying to protect him from the sun. 

He panicked at the sight of all the blood, still oozing out in a steady stream down one shoulder, soaking through the fabric of his shirt. God it was fucking everywhere. Jensen thought back to all the procedural cop shows he’d watched, all the hospital scenes in every damn movie he remembered. He laughed softly to himself as he held out his hands in front of him, clenching and unclenching fingers because he wasn’t sure what else to do with them. He could see the slight tremble going up and down his arms, saw how unsteady he was crouched here next to his dying co-star that he worked with for just over six years, yet he knew barely a thing about Jared. He took a deep breath, blew it out through his nose, flexed his fingers and imitated what they always did to bleeding, dying people on TV.

Jensen was drifting through memories by the time Bobby came back with the medical kit, his hands slick wet with Jared’s blood, keeping as much pressure to the wound as he could. Jared hadn’t so much as twitched a finger showing just how deeply unconscious he had fallen. Jensen peered down at him, took in his pale cheeks, closed eyelids, the slight frown that he couldn’t seem to get rid of even when he wasn’t conscious. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jensen could see the slight rise and fall of Jared’s chest, he would’ve thought he was dead. Thankfully, he wasn’t. Jensen didn’t care much for the guy, sure, but indifference didn’t equate to wishing death upon a fellow human.

“Alright move a bit.” He was gently pushed back by a large hand and he got the message and scooted back some more to make room for Bobby. Bobby opened the kit and pulled out a roll of gauze. Jensen watched skeptically as he yanked a long strip off and gestured for Jensen to move his hands. Slowly, unsurely, Jensen did. Bobby moved fast, his hands a rush of blurs as he wrapped up Jared’s shoulder. It must have hurt with how tightly it was wound up but Jared must have really been out of it, he didn’t jerk or twitch, just lay still as a statue besides the steady rise and fall of his chest. “Going to have to haul him back to the truck,” Bobby said as he rolled the gauze back up and stuck it into the med kit. 

Jensen got to his feet as Bobby yanked Jared up and had an arm slung over his shoulder. He looked expectantly at Jensen as the actor scrambled over to them. He grabbed hold of Jared’s other arm, hanging loosely to the side like a marionette. “Where we going? Are you taking him to a hospital?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jensen felt instantly stupid. _Fucking Supernatural, man_ , he thought. Since when did anyone here go to a damn hospital?

Just as he expected, he saw Bobby’s eyebrows shoot up. “Ain’t no time for a hospital,” he replied, like the answer was that simple. Maybe it was to him, to everyone that lived in this messed up, whacked out world. “We’re taking him back to the motel. Got some alcohol back there for his shoulder.”

Yeah. Why have a real professional fix it up good as new when you can just pour some Champagne all over the poor sucker’s shoulder? Jensen wisely decided to keep that comment to himself.

Jensen would say the alcohol process didn’t go so badly, at least it didn’t up to the point that Jared woke up. He more like jolted awake, like he had come out of a nightmare just then. It was bad timing. Bobby kept hissing for him to stay still but all Jared could process was the burn, the _fucking burning everywhere, why was his shoulder hurting so bad, why did it feel like it was on fire, that he was on fire_? Jensen felt bad so he knocked him out, clean on the back of the head. Bobby was livid when he did that but Jensen shrugged, said he couldn’t let the poor bastard suffer more than he ought to. Bobby suspected there was something more to Jensen’s actions the way he kept eyeing him suspiciously after that, and maybe he was right to. Jensen just thought, _now we’re even for what happened back at the warehouse_. 

Jared only started to rouse a few hours after that, after they had finished a more proper dressing around his shoulder. He didn’t remember that Jensen hit him on the back of his head and Jensen was definitely not going to tell him that was the real cause to his headache. Bobby was sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the small table, more relaxed than he had been all day, reading glasses on while he searched for an incomplete Sudoku puzzle in his little Sudoku booklet. Jensen wasn’t good at those things. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, had been waiting for Jared to wake up, a copy of the bible in one hand courtesy of Bobby. He had been flipping through it ever since, bored out of his mind.

Jensen scooted to the edge of bed. “Scale of one to ten, how’s your pain?”

Jared groaned as he rubbed his head. “For what? My shoulder or head? ‘Cos it’s maybe a five for the shoulder. Now, my head? That’s, like, a seven.” He let out another groan as Jensen tried to hide his surprise. Had he really hit him that hard? He looked over to Bobby who just shrugged and was back to figuring out the secrets to Sudoku. “I feel like I smacked my head hard against a wall or something.”

Jensen chuckled and set the bible to the side. He got up and went to the kitchen to get some water for Jared. He ought to be thirsty by now, Jensen sure was at least. “Dude, that dog whatever tore you up real good. Like they say, if you can’t handle the fire, baby, stay out of the kitchen.” He filled up two glasses of water and got a beer from the fridge. “You must’a been out of your mind trying to take it out with a fucking pipe.” He came back into the room and handed the beer over to Bobby who took it with a grunt and set one of the glasses on the table next to the bed for Jared.

“You two chuckleheads tried to take down a rugaru with a _pipe_?” 

Jared grimaced as he reached for the glass. “Uh, not exactly one of my finer moments, I know.”

Jensen snorted. No shit. “You should have seen him. He compared himself to Superman. _Superman_!”

“You called me Clark Kent first,” Jared pointed out indignantly.

Jensen waved him off. “Semantics.”

Bobby looked at the two with a mix of amusement and annoyance. He snorted and put the Sudoku book down. “What in hell were you two thinking, trying to take out a rugaru by yourselves anyhow? I left you back here for a reason you know.”

Jensen fidgeted on the bed, took a small sip of his glass as he eyed Jared nervously, the wide eyed expression mirrored perfectly on his co-star. He scratched his cheek and shrugged. “We didn’t even think it was a rugaru until Misha, Cas, whatever, the angel dude—“

“—Wait, Cas? He showed up?” Bobby cut in sharply.

Jared nodded eagerly. “Yeah. He told us you were hunting a rugaru and then he took us to you.”

“Why did he come to you in the first place?” Bobby demanded. He looked pissed suddenly, like how he looked when he saw Jensen just standing there while Jared bled out.

Jensen put his hands up in a placating gesture, surprise showing on his face. “We uh called him. You sounded like you were in trouble and Jared, he thought you might’ve needed help so we called Cas and told him to bring us to you, and you know…he did.”

Bobby rose from the couch. He seemed more calm after Jensen explained everything but the pissed off look didn’t seem to be going away any time soon. Jared was watching him carefully, Jensen noticed from the corner of his eye. He was quiet, he got that way a lot on set, when he was trying to get in character, when he was real deep in his thoughts, when he was studying someone with an intensity that scared even Jensen sometimes. Finally, he seemed to have made up his mind on something and said, “What are you thinking about, Bobby?” He seemed to know something already though, that much Jensen could tell.

Bobby sighed and took off his cap, tossing it back on the couch. “Castiel. I just,” he stopped for a moment, looked imploringly at them, then took a deep breath. “I just have a bad feeling is all. The boys, Dean and Sam, they trust their angel. But,” he huffed out a laugh. “But I guess I never been good at trusting things other than human, and sometimes even then…” Bobby finished off with a helpless shrug while Jensen exchanged a look with Jared.

“What kind of bad feeling if you don’t mind me asking?” Jared again.

“Look, I’m sure it’s nothing. I mean, he’s always in and out, but that’s always been Cas’ style. Angels, they don’t exactly care much for etiquettes, and from what I’ve been told, things been going haywire upstairs. Angel war or something like that so I’m sure he’s just been real busy.” Bobby slumped back on the couch. He still looked unhappy but not as pissed, which was always a good thing in Jensen’s book.

Jensen looked back to Jared who motioned for Jensen to come closer. Curious, Jensen moved over to the bed Jared was occupying. “What?” he said lowly so Bobby wouldn’t hear.

“Cas. I been thinking,” Jared said with a shrug to which Jensen snorted. He was always thinking. Jared smacked him on the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“Keep it down,” Jared hissed to him. Jensen scowled, rubbed the back of his head. He wouldn’t need to if Jared would keep his damn hands to himself. “Anyways, about Cas. You remember anything in the script that may have foreshadowed, uh, Cas shifting to the ‘dark side’? I mean it is a bit suspicious he’s always in and out with the Winchesters, well, us now. Right?”

Jensen thought about that, tapping his chin. He couldn’t remember much of the script though and because of this particular story line he didn’t get nearly as much screen time with Misha this year. Not as much as seasons four and five at least. He shrugged finally. “It’s an angel civil war. And it’s Cas. How else do you want him to act? He’s always been, you know, flighty.”

Jared raised an eyebrow at his word choice. He mouthed _flighty_? Jensen just shrugged again. He turned serious after a moment. “Well that’s all I got,” Jared said with a sigh. “I mean, why else wouldn’t he answer my calls now?”

Jensen looked at him incredulously. “Dude, it’s not like he’s obligated to be on call for us. We’re not actually Dean and Sam, hunters extraordinaire. We’re just two losers that got caught up in this sorry predicament. Probably the only reason he and Bobby feel like helping us out at all is the fact we look like them.” It was sad, but oh so true. And Jensen wanted out. Really, really wanted out. He wondered suddenly what Danni was doing now. Was she waiting for Jensen still to get home? Were Dean and Sam with her? The thought of his TV character using his charisma to charm his wife into having sex with her in their bed made Jensen suddenly angry, annoyed and angry. For the first time since he started on the show, he wished Dean was more like Sam, studious and good and well-mannered, not a womanizer and flirt that always managed to get his way.

“Still. It’s still weird,” Jared said, chewed the bottom of his lips.

Jensen scooted back with a shrug. Bobby snorted from the couch. He had gone back to the Sudoku book to give them some space, but one look at him and Jensen knew he had been listening to the whole conversation. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a right to know they had been talking about Castiel though, in fact he had every right to know, maybe more than them considering this was Bobby’s world and he had to live here and deal with everything even when Jensen and Jared had gone back to theirs. He didn’t ask though. At least not right away. “So when you meant you were actors, and you played as Dean and Sam, and this guy, Jim something, he was me, those scripts of yours…everything that happened, they happen exactly how it happen here?”

It was a good question and should have been a simple yes, but to Jensen’s surprise, the more he thought of it, the more he figured he didn’t _actually_ know. He was sure, certain that them sitting here, Bobby sitting here in this motel, those weren’t in the script. In fact ‘French Mistake’ didn’t have Bobby or Jim Beaver. It had been set in the real world. And he was sure Castiel wasn’t meant to be fleeting in and out at all, hadn’t been scripted in until near the end really. He looked to Jared, found that he was also uncertain, pretty damn unsettled too, because the answer should have been yes, because Jensen still couldn’t wrap his head around this, that all this, what they were doing, the people they were with, that it was all real.

Bobby looked between the two and shook his head. “Damn and here I was sitting, figuring I could be using ya’ll to predict the future,” he said wryly, though he didn’t seem that worried. He leaned back and Jensen knew it had just been a joke. It was strange how quick the hunter seemed to be taking to them. Just yesterday he and Jared had both been at the wrong end of a gun barrel, had salt of all things thrown on them, their arms had been sliced and diced in case they happened to be shape shifters or something like. Now they were all here, cramped in a cheap motel, drinking beer and just generally hanging about.

He wasn’t exactly sure what they were still doing at the motel, why Bobby wasn’t ordering them back in the truck so they could head back to Bobby’s, maybe it was Jared’s shoulder still hurting him, maybe they were all hoping for some supernatural thing to happen, like Jensen and Jared would just automatically teleport out of here and back onto the set again, so that Bobby could get his real kids back, real hunters that didn’t get hurt trying to fend off a fucking rugaru with some small, measly pipe.

Just as Jensen was getting comfortable on Jared’s bed, laying back so the upper half of torso was on the bed while the rest of him was dangling off, there was the sound of fluttering wings. Jensen shot up like a rocket to see Misha in the middle of the room, his face hard and expression unreadable. He could hear Jared scooting up to the headboard. Out of the corner of his eye Bobby seemed to tense on the couch. Misha didn’t look at any of them, scanned the room like none of them were there.

Finally he said, his voice low, rumbling from his chest, “The Winchester brothers are still not back?” He frowned to himself, like that hadn’t been the plan all along, like he hadn’t ordered for them to run in another dimension. But Jensen knew this particular scene wasn’t in the script, Jensen and Jared weren’t supposed to be a part of the story. Somehow though, they were now. Misha/Castiel found Jensen’s eyes and seemed to stare into his soul. “Balthazar told me about the spell he performed. I am sending you both back,” he said finally, still looking perplexed, exhausted.

“I thought you said there wasn’t any way for us to get back except wait it out,” Jensen said, suspicious.

Castiel shrugged. “That was before I realized how easy it is to replicate the spell once Balthazar filled me in on all the ingredients.”

“That’s great then,” Jared blurted.

Castiel's eyes turned to squint at Jared. It was in a moment that Jensen realized his gaze was more fixed on Jared's shoulder, the tightly wrapped dressing. "What happened to you?"

Jared's gaze trailed down to the dressing. "Rugaru," he bit out.

Castiel's expression turned thoughtful as he mulled over the answer. "I see. Come here." He motioned for Jared to come over. Jensen could see the slight hesitation in his eyes but didn't argue. When Jared was close enough, Castiel lay a hand on the bandages and closed his eyes, a bright light emitting from the touch. Jensen jumped back in surprise. _Holy shit_.

"That should do it," Castiel said as he opened his eyes, still gripping tightly to a shocked Jared.

Jared looked at his shoulder and gave an experimental roll. He didn't grimace in pain. After a moment, he pulled the dressing off to show pale skin, not a trace of the rugaru's bite. "Fuck," he said.

Castiel gave a wan smile. "It's more...useful to send you back unharmed."

Bobby’s eyes narrowed at Castiel. “More _useful_ for what exactly?”

Castiel’s eyes flicked up, caught his gaze, then looked away. “I have a favor to ask.” He cocked his head to the side when he looked back to Jensen and Jared. “If it has taken the Winchesters this long, I assume they’re being kept busy.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow at that. “With what? Signing autographs? Mobbed by fan girls?”

Jared snorted. “I don’t think _Dean_ would have anything to worry about in that department.”

Jensen turned to look at him. “Do you really want to start something, Padalecki?”

He watched as Jared opened his mouth again but Castiel said, “Fan girls? I’m not sure what you mean by that, but it would be safe to say Raphael is keeping them…distracted.”

Jensen turned back, brows furrowed. “How do you figure?”

“I saw him send an angel through.”

“You _saw_ and didn’t do anything?” Bobby asked angrily.

Castiel whirled to face him. “I didn’t exactly have my hands empty. This is a war, Bobby, and Raphael is on one side while I am on the other.”

Bobby snorted but didn’t say anything.

“So what’s the favor?” Jared finally asked.

Castiel’s expression turned grim. “When I send you back, you must get the Winchesters back here at all cost. They have something…of mine and it’s very important that I have it back.”

Jensen exchanged a look with Jared. He licked his lips and nodded. “Okay. But how are we supposed to get back? There’s…no magic in our world.”

“You can call me by using human blood and citing the Latin exorcism,” Castiel said.

“Human blood?” Jensen squawked the same time as Jared said incredulously, “Latin _exorcism_?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, a trace of amusement in his voice as he took out an already filled bowl. “Uriel created the spell a long time ago, and he was said to be the funniest angel in the garrison.”

“Right.” 

“Are you ready?”

Jensen grimaced, wiped his hands on his pants. He looked one last time to Bobby, then Jared and they both nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he mumbled. He watched as Castiel made the sigil for the spell on a window. Jumping out another window. Awesome. He walked over to the opposite wall with Jared, his right foot planted on the wall for momentum. He squeezed his eyes shut, blinked, and started out a jog. When the window came closer and closer, they leapt.

“Remember, find the Winchesters,” Castiel’s voice already sounded distant, like an echo through a tunnel, then suddenly he couldn’t hear him anymore and Jensen snapped his eyes open to see the familiar fish tank he got a couple years back, a table with his laptop on standby, a cooler kept to the side, lights flickering overhead, a broken-in window above a couch. He rolled onto his back and laughed because he was in his god damned _trailer_.


	8. The Winchester Side: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **With the brothers...**   
>  **Jared Padalecki's Residence**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some slight Sam/Gen, no actual sex, keeping it PG 13. This is where it begins to veer a little from the episode.

**Part 2**

Sam knew his mouth was open in a gape, awe dripping in his voice with each word that managed to slip out to his brother, hands darting to touch every little thing he came across. He couldn’t seem to stop himself, helpless with excitement, a pang of envy, a childish giddiness like a child on Christmas. Dean wasn’t much better off. The idea of a house had always been a foreign concept to them, living a normal life an unreachable dream. Sam had one for a couple years, back during his Stanford days. Friends, families of friends that felt almost as close as Dean and dad ever were, a shared apartment, school, a part time job, driving in a car through familiar streets and seeing familiar faces instead of strange blurs, but now that felt like forever ago, a distant, remembered dream instead of fond memories. But here, this, this was now, touching everything, feeling the hard, flat, soft surfaces, pressing his hands on carpet, desk, vase, portrait, even a screen of a TV, it was real, it was here and now and he wasn’t dreaming, wasn’t going away. Sam was like a little boy in a candy store, trying out all the different flavors one at a time, or maybe all at the same time and he was sure he would never get tired. _Never_.

 _If dad could see this, if he was here, if he was touching and feeling and hearing and smelling everything we were, experiencing this_ …Sam let his thoughts trail off, unsure where it was heading, unsure of even how John would react if he was still alive, sent off to where Sam and Dean were now, standing speechless in some strange world where they were born with normal lives, _safe_ and normal. Yeah. He paused at a large painting of himself, or of not-Sam, Jared Pada…whatever. He could see the crinkles in his face as he smiled, a cowboy hat covering his long hair. His hand touched the edge of the painting, ran over it hesitantly. It was strange to see himself like this, an actor, someone that grew up normal and safe, that didn’t hunt things in the dark and save people like Sam and Dean did, that owned a house, maybe had a girlfriend that was still alive and that loved him and supported him. He scratched his head thoughtfully, turned to see his brother checking out the TV with a sort of awed reverence that only Dean would hold for a fucking TV. He rolled his eyes before he knew what he was doing, as Dean found the remote lodged into the pillows of the couch, flipped it on and started to channel surf.

“Dean,” he called.

Dean didn’t respond at first, held up a hand as if to say wait as he continued to happily search for a channel that was worth his time. He was probably trying to find some soap opera, maybe a bit of _Dr. Sexy M.D._ Sam turned his back and ignored the noise coming from the TV. He didn’t feel like pointing out to Dean he was probably not going to find what he was looking for considering they were in another dimension, especially since where they came from, that was a TV show here.

His eyes swept the rest of the room instead, zeroed in on the pictures hanging near the door like trophies where all eyes could see once they walked into the house. It was of him obviously but he wasn’t the only one in it this time and he wasn’t dressed all weird like, like he was posing for some cheap college film audition, in some cowboy getup or cop uniform or something. He was in a simple button up shirt, the ones with the collars that usually went with a suit and tie, pressed pants and expensive dress shoes. On the right, hanging off his arm like she fitted perfectly to his side was a familiar smiling face. Except usually what he saw came off as a smirk, something smug, sinister, something that promised dark things beneath the surface. He gulped unsure if what he was seeing was real or not. Sam pinched himself hard on the arm just incase and had to hiss in surprised pain.

“Dean,” he said, this time louder, a little more unsteady. He watched out of the corner of his eye as his brother finally sagged in defeat and clicked the TV off, disappointed to not have whatever it was he was searching for. Sam was secretly glad because he didn’t want Dean to just sit there like a couch potato in front of the TV all day while Sam went nuts with worry over his recent discovery. He turned to Sam and shuffled over, hands shoved in his jeans like some depressed teenager. “Look at this.” He pointed to the picture he had been staring at, unable to find any more words to express just what he was feeling, a mix of confusion, worry and anger.

Dean glanced at it, did a double take, almost staggering back into a table when he saw what Sam was pointing to. “Is that…” Dean’s voice was hoarse, he trailed off uncertainly, cleared his throat and said again, “Is that Ruby, man?”

And it was. It totally was. Sam wished it wasn’t, that it was just someone that looked really, really close to Ruby but there was no mistaking that face. Sam could go on hunting for decades and would still remember Ruby, the things she did to him, the things she forced him to feel, forced because she manipulated him, twisted him into some weapon for her own purposes without his knowing until it was too late, until he fucked things up. She would always be that sorry, conniving bitch that strung him along like a marionette, and sadly, he would always think of himself as the poor bastard that was gullible to fall for her sweet, twisted lies. Dean’s jaw clenched.

“What’s she doing in a picture with you?” he asked in a low voice. “Is she…are you two…in here?” He couldn’t seem to finish his sentence, trailing off every time he tried to process the meaning behind it, the picture, the smiling, the hand holding, the clothes they wore. Sam saw the wedding ring on his finger and knew then he was totally fucked.

“I, uh, think we’re a couple,” Sam said so low he wondered if Dean could hear him or if his brother had to strain his ear. Either way it didn’t matter because it wouldn’t change a damn thing. He was married to Ruby, or not-Ruby, Ruby’s actress.

“So not awkward,” Dean muttered and walked stiffly to the couch before flopping down. After a moment he announced louder than necessary, “I need a drink.”

“Me too.”

Sam went to find the kitchen, fetched two beers from the fridge and dumped one in his brother’s lap before opening the other for himself and chugging almost all of it down in one sitting. He let his gaze wander as his thoughts seemed to trail in one particular direction, which was downhill, because he was thinking about Ruby now, Ruby and him, the real Ruby. Wonder what it would be like if she was still alive suddenly, if he had gone dark side with her and Lucifer and the rest of them. They certainly wouldn’t be standing here today. He swallowed the rest of the alcohol and put it down on the table, turned to see his brother staring up at him.

“You okay there, Sammy?” he asked once Sam caught him watching.

Sam wanted to say not really, no. He didn’t though. He just rolled his eyes at Dean’s show of concern and said, “Yeah, Dean. I’m fine.”

Dean watched him for a moment longer, he looked like he wanted to call Sam out on his obvious lie but changed his mind and settled for a shrug and a chug of his own bottle of alcohol. “Whatever. Let’s just go order the stuff we need for the spell and get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Yeah.” Sam couldn’t agree more. He may be jealous of not-Sam’s choice of home but he was certainly not jealous of his choice of wife. Suddenly Sam was just dying to get out of this place as quick as possible, hoped they could get the ingredients before they ran into any more people they didn’t know but were expected to know, like not-Ruby. He shuddered at the thought of meeting her up close and personal, imagined her eyes dark with worry, a frown tilting her mouth, soft, small hands running chills up his arms as she tried to rub the pain and exhaustion away. He stopped trying to imagine anything else before his mind could take a turn he would regret later on. He didn’t need any more images of not-Ruby thanks.

Sam went in search of a computer, a laptop, anything that had the internet on it. He found one upstairs in a bedroom with a queen sized bed. It was the only bed in the whole house so he suspected which room he came stumbling in and tried not to think of anything beyond that. Dean had come following Sam, claiming he was getting bored. As soon as he settled down to lay on the bed, however, he fell promptly asleep, loud snores and all. Sam tried to ignore him but it was getting harder and harder as the minutes ticked away. It was thirty minutes later, Sam had found the right website, made a phone call or two just to be sure and tapped in his credit card number to seal the purchase, that the door downstairs opened with a loud creak, alerting Sam to a presence other than him or Dean.

He startled, eyes wide and mouth open, feeling like a little kid caught red handed with his hand in a cookie jar right before dinner. “Jared? I’m home. Jare? Baby?” A feminine voice called out in the stillness.

Sam sat still, unable to move, sure he was supposed to answer back. The problem was he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, how Jared would normally act. So far, he and Dean had been doing a piss poor job. He was actually quite surprised that the crew were only baffled at their new attitude adjustment instead of outright suspicious. But then Sam supposed they didn’t really have reason to be suspicious. Not here, where doppelgangers and demons, shape shifters, all the supernatural were just myths and legends, made up tales torn from books and TV shows. It was sort of nice to be in this strange but relatively safe place.

“Jared? I know you’re home. Cliff called me. It’s not funny, you know, you not answering me like this. If this is another one of your god damn pranks, I swear, Jare,” not-Ruby, Sam was certain it was her now, said, sounding annoyed, in a very familiar tone that told Sam she wasn’t fucking around.

He decided then to man up and say something to assure her he wasn’t messing with her before she decided to storm upstairs to find him. “Uh, sorry, I’m up here. Don’t worry.” He glanced at his sleeping brother, chewed his lip nervously, wondered what her relationship was with this Jensen Ackles guy. He rose to his feet and decided to head down the stairs incase it was a really bad relationship, no need to make anything more complicated than it needed to be after all, when not-Ruby could be heard coming up the stairs. Panicked, he said quickly, “Wait. I’m not dressed. Lemme get a shirt on real quick and then I’ll come down to you.”

There was a pause, and Sam could feel his hands sweat as he waited for her to swallow the lie, could practically imagine her on the stairs pondering over the request. Then he could hear her moving again but the steps were getting louder and closer instead of quieter and distant and Sam wasn’t sure what to do now, flailing his arms around before deciding to take off his shirt so he wouldn’t be caught in a lie. He heard her chuckle as she reached the top.

“You really think I’m going to pass up the opportunity to see you naked?” her voice sang out and she peeked her head in.

Sam felt himself blush, wondering how after all these years a woman can still get to him like that, with just the right kind of comment. He quirked his mouth into a wry grin. “Half naked you mean,” he corrected her.

She smirked and practically sashayed into the room, her hips bouncing to the side with each step. Once she made it to him, he found himself reaching to steady her hips as she dropped into his lap suddenly, her legs straddling over him, thighs touching thighs. Sam wasn’t sure what to do. It had been a long time since he had a woman on him, then his mind flashes to an image of his soulless self and Sam found he had to correct himself. It had been a long time since he had been with any woman that wasn’t some prostitute, and even during the time when he didn’t have a soul, he found those memories fuzzy so they couldn’t count even if he wanted them to.

Not-Ruby was leaning in close, pressing her breasts to his chest, her hot breaths ghosting over his cheek and ear, and Sam tried to suppress the shudder that was going through him, tried to stop the quick stuttering intakes of breaths. “Aren’t you going to say something, Jare?”

“I, uh,” Sam was just at a loss for words right now, as not-Ruby wrapped her arms around his head, playing with his hair like she had a right to, which in her mind she did considering she married a Sam-look-a-like and thought Sam was him.

“’I, uh’? How eloquent of you, Jare,” she said dryly. And she sounded so much like Ruby, the Ruby he knew, the one that was dead, the bitch that manipulated him with demon blood and an itch that crept uncomfortably beneath his skin where it didn’t belong, that Sam couldn’t help the soft gasp and the shove. Not-Ruby froze, then stumbled off him when he shoved at her again, this time a little harder.

“What’s your problem?” she demanded as Sam screwed his eyes shut against the onslaught of aching memories. He didn’t need this right now. He couldn’t act suspicious. He drew in a shaky breath and opened his eyes. He tried for a reassuring smile once he got his shit together.

“Sorry, sorry, bad day at, uh, work,” he said with a shrug.

Not-Ruby snorted but went back to sit on his lap again. “Right, is it Jensen again? I swear that guy’s so full of himself sometimes. I don’t understand how you can put up with him all the time, Jare.”

Sam tensed a little. Dean was still in the room, thankfully the snoring had died down, but if not-Ruby turned her head even a little, she would see him lying on the bed. “Yeah, uh, sometimes I’m not sure how I can either,” Sam said, tilting her head so she was looking at him more.

She looked at him, an intensity in her face that made Sam’s heart flutter in trepidation. Not-Ruby leaned up again so her hair was in his face, her lips pressed close to his ear, so that he could feel the soft brush of her lipsticks. “You wanna know what the remedy for a bad day is?” 

He wanted to laugh because he suddenly knew where this was heading and for some reason, he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He let her take hold of his face in both hands and kiss him, soft moist lips against his own, he could taste the lipsticks she had on. As he kissed her back, slow and unsure, like an awkward teenager would do for his first kiss, he wondered vaguely if this was considered cheating.

 

They didn’t actually have sex. There was no way in hell Sam was going to have sex with a girl in the same room his brother was currently sleeping in. There was also no way in hell Sam was going to have sex with a girl that looked like Ruby, actress or not. Plus she was married. To himself in another lifetime, sure, but it wasn’t _really_ him and just because Sam hadn’t been laid in what felt like forever didn’t mean he would stoop so low in having sex with a married woman. So instead they made out a little.

Sam was shirtless, drenched in sweat that made him feel disgusting, hair in disarray and lips slightly swollen. But at least he still had his pants on. Not-Ruby, he still didn’t catch his name, though with one search he could easily look it up if he wanted to which he didn’t really, she was breathing heavier than he was, and somehow in the make out session, her blouse had come off. 

“You know,” Not-Ruby was murmuring into his chest, “you should be this aggressive when we’re actually in bed.” He could feel the curve of her mouth quirk against his skin as she grinned.

He chuckled. “Right. I definitely will.” It was probably a lie. By that time, he hoped he and Dean were gone. As much as he ached to stay here and live a normal life, there really wasn’t a home like a, well, home. And grudgingly Sam had to admit to himself he was good at hunting, he and Dean were good at that and they saved people, and if they were gone, who would pick up their slack? No people needed them and honestly Sam was probably not cut out for normal. He envied Jared Padalecki though.

Dean roused awake not long after not-Ruby left. It was luck not-Ruby didn’t notice Dean at all while she was there to which Sam was grateful because that saved a lot of awkward moments. Dean, however, hadn’t been quite as asleep as Sam thought because as soon as they heard the front door slam shut, apparently not-Ruby had some place she ought to be, something about saving otters or the likes, Sam didn’t really pay much attention to the details, there was an engine roaring to life in the driveway and a moment later, not-Ruby was gone. And Dean, the sneaky bastard of a brother, burst into a full on laugh as he pointed a finger at Sam and made kissy faces and tried to smooch with a pillow.

Sam really didn’t have a choice but to throw his sweaty, smelly shirt at him to try to get him to shut up. Of course it didn’t work.


	9. The Winchester Side: Part 3

**Part 3**

Dean was done, so done, with freaking out like a little girl. Once he heard a voice that was most definitely not Sam, shouting his brother’s name from down the stairs, oh he almost shot up like a rocket. Almost anyway, the key word being almost. He squeezed his eyes closed and turned to bury his face even more into the pillow when he heard the pounding on the stairs. He considered rolling off the bed and hiding underneath until not-Ruby went out but decided against it, it wasn’t like she was actually Ruby and he was supposed to be Jensen, not Dean. He wasn’t too sure what this Jensen dude’s and not-Ruby’s relationship was, couldn’t be very good if she was married to his brother…er, not-brother, and they weren’t even on speaking terms, but the most it’ll be was probably just awkward, and Dean could handle awkward, as long as no one tried to kill him, he could definitely handle awkward.

Turned out, he didn’t have anything to worry about. She didn’t see him thankfully. Or maybe not so thankfully because as soon as she had walked into the bedroom she had her sights on Sam and the bitch, the fucking bitch went straight to sit, no, to straddle his brother’s lap and make out with his face like a pair of teenagers driven by hormones. It nearly made him gag. Luckily for him, he didn’t. He had a feeling that would have given away to his presence, what with vomiting all over the floor. To Dean’s relief, nothing really happened. Surprising for all of Sam’s uncharacteristic aggression. He always pegged his brother for the slow, make love romance thing, get the girl in the mood but…Dean wasn’t going to think any more on this topic. Sex didn’t happen. Case fucking closed. The end.

After not-Ruby left, Dean figured it was safe to ‘wake up’. He stretched out and opened one eye, then laughed and proceeded to make fun of Sam because that was what good brothers do: make fun of little brothers, even if said little brother was kind of kissing the bitch demon that betrayed them. Kind of, because at the same time she wasn’t. If that made any sense at all. For his efforts, Sam threw his sweaty shirt at him. It landed on his face and Dean had to crinkle his nose in disgust.

“So aside from having a little make out session with Ruby, what else have you been up to while I was sleeping, Anakin?”

Sam rolled his eyes, leaned back on the chair. “I ordered the stuff we need for the spell, should arrive by tomorrow.” He paused and Dean didn’t really like how his brother was worrying the bottom of his lip like that. Taking a deep breath, Sam said, “The stuff we need, it’s really better if we went there to pick it up ourselves.”

Dean frowned as he thought back to the list of ingredients. There were some pretty weird ass stuff on there that would probably make regular people do a double take if they saw.

“Okay.”

That was how Dean found himself back in the stupid van that he was sure old folks drove the next day, Sam had dibs on shotgun and Cliff was behind the wheel, all three not saying anything while some country song was blaring from the radio which was in no way Dean’s choice of station because Sam had full commandeer of the radio. Every time Dean tried to turn it off or at least switch stations, Sam’s hand shot out to swat at his hand. He had to snatch his hand back after the third attempt for fear of losing it. Some battles just weren’t worth it. He laid his head back and tried to relax but it was still some getting used to, Dean had always been behind the wheels of the Impala except for a few times he let Sam drive.

They arrived to get the package in time. Sam came back with it in his hands and all but dumped it into Dean’s lap. He climbed back into his seat and slammed the door shut without a word and Cliff looked at them both a little suspiciously. But it wasn’t like that expression was new to Dean. With the weird shit he saw and did on a daily basis, nothing ever surprised him.

“You guys aren’t doing anything illegal, are you?”

Dean just grinned and looked down at the package in his lap. Sam was the one that said, “If we said we weren’t, would that make you feel any better?”

“No, not really.”

Dean suspected it wouldn’t have. The drive back to the set was the longest drive Dean ever had to put up with.

It had to work, Dean felt it in his bones. They had everything they needed right here. “Okay, Sammy, you ready for this?” he asked as he dumped the last of the stuff into a bowl they found lying around in one of the many trailers. He looked up to see a hesitant look on his brother’s face.

“You sure we got the right window?”

Dean looked around the room with a raised eyebrow. Looked the same to him. “Uh, yeah.”

“Okay. Okay then. Let’s do this.”

“Okay so we’ll both jump at the count of three.”

“One…” He glanced at Sam and made sure his brother was getting ready because it was now or never. Sam was rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans. “Two…” He looked back at the window marked in the same sigil he saw Balthazar mark the spell with. It was going to work, he knew it, they were going home, to pie, to angels, to demons, home sweet fucking home. “Three!” And he was running, Sam right beside him, flinging themselves at the window and he could feel the impact of the crash, hear the loud shattering of glass as shards rained down all around them, and then, and then he was crashing, they were crashing, face first to the ground, and he was sure it worked, it had to work…Dean rolled over and got up to his hands and knees and saw the familiar tiled floor of the, the, no that wasn’t right, why was it a tiled floor? He glanced up to see the broken window that he and his brother just jumped through. But…the spell, it should have fucking worked. Why didn’t it work?

Dean felt himself fall on his back, stared blearily up at the overhead light, squeezed his eyes closed thinking dazedly, _we’re never going to get back home now_. Because he was out of ideas now. The spell had been their one shot and it…didn’t work. After a few moments, he was roughly shaken awake. Dean snapped his eyes open to see Sam blinking down at him wearing the same dazed, almost bewildered look, asking him silently with just his eyes, his fucking huge puppy dog eyes really, _why, Dean, why are we still here, it should’ve worked, we should be back, so what did we do wrong_? Hell if Dean knew.

Dean got to his feet and rubbed his head. They trudged reluctantly through the set, faces beat with exhaustion and defeat and Dean nearly collapsed back on a recliner as he watched actors walk pass them, each shooting them perplexed looks like Sam and Dean were something alien to them. He couldn’t help but wonder, after Misha passed by with another actor, arms slung on shoulders like they were best pals or something, if this was what Dean’s and Sam’s future lives would be like. Hunters reduced to pretenders. No more cheap motels and Chinese take outs, no more sharing rooms and paying rent with fraud credit cards, no more hunting and saving dicks that seldom thank them, no more monsters hiding in closets waiting to eat children, no more living on lies, no more angels and demons and hell hounds, no more Cas, no more Bobby, no more…no more…

He kicked back his legs as Sam wandered off to look for cheap food. He returned fifteen minutes later carrying a small take out box with fried chicken and rice and broccoli and lots of grease and all the other stuff Dean was sure wasn’t all that healthy. Sam shared it silently with his brother and Dean relished the delicious taste, the flavors of food melting in his mouth. He looked at Sam after he ate his fill.

“Food’s free here,” Sam said as he bit into his third wing.

“One thing that doesn’t suck at least,” Dean offered.

Sam shrugged as he licked his fingers and set the chicken back into the box in his lap. “Look, Dean, we’re not giving up, okay? There has to be another way.”

“Uh, hello, Sammy, where exactly do you think we are?” Dean asked meaningfully.

Sam let his gaze drop to the floor for a moment before giving a shrug. “You ever thought why we haven’t run into any monsters here?” Dean said finally.

“Monsters don’t exist here, is that what you’re saying?”

Dean shrugged and whistled appreciatively as he watched some people play out a fight scene. “At least not the variety we’re used to.”

Sam rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, digesting what Dean was saying. “So no monsters, that means no magic too? That’s why the spell didn’t work.” Dean turned to see his brother slump, a sign of inward defeat. He swallowed at the thought. “Dean, if there’s no magic, no supernatural, is it even possible for us to get home?” 

Not really. Dean didn’t reply.

It was a depressing thing to think about, but Dean felt like he knew it all along, even in all his excitement in finding the ingredients for Balthazar’s spell. When they jumped through the window, he almost believed that it would work, it had to work, they went through all the trouble to brew it up, why wouldn’t it not work? So he had his hopes up. And then dashed out. All in one sitting. And it sucked, oh boy did it suck big time. 

“So I guess we should be thinking of what to do next,” Sam said beside him.

Dean snapped his head up. “Like what? Look, Sammy, there’s nothing we can do. Not from this side at least…” He let his voice trail off when all Sam did was stare at him, trying to make him feel uncomfortable, which was working partly because Dean was already out of his depths here and it was, come on, it was Sammy.

“Dean, we’ve got a good thing going here.”

Dean snorted at that. _Good one, Sammy, real good…almost sounded like…like, shit, you’re serious, aren’t you? That’s your fucking serious-listen-to-me-voice. Shit, shit, sh—_

“Dean, look around us. This world, it’s got no monsters. No monsters, man, you know what that means? It means safe, Dean. It means safe and normal. Like we don’t have to hunt now.” Dean was glad Sam finally shut up, but his brother only shut up long enough to huff out a laugh, then he was back to trying to rip apart his brother one fucking word at a time. “Think about it. No more of this insane life on the road, in cheap seedy motels with shady people, no more running and not getting thanks from the people we save. We can pose as these guys, Jared and Jensen, we can be them. We can lead normal lives, Dean.” And that was about as much insanity Dean could take spouting out of his brother. Sam looked like he had more to say, opening that fucking mouth of his, like he had a lot more to say, to try to crush Dean down with, but no, no way no how was Dean taking any more of this, this shit.

Dean shook his head and cuffed his brother right on the back of his head. Sam had only time to yelp out a surprised, “Ow! Dean!”

“Listen, Sam, I get you, really I do. You take one look around and you get it in your head you can have a life again, like back in the good ol’ Stanford years, right? You have a great career, a roof over your head that isn’t actually mobile, and a, um, lovely wife if you can get past her appearance.” Dean coughed awkwardly and Sam rolled his eyes. Then he looked his brother straight to his face. “But man, we’re not Jared and Jensen. We can’t be them. We can’t take that from them. And I ain’t gonna give up looking for a way to get us out. This isn’t us, man. It isn’t.”

Sam was shaking his head as Dean looked pleadingly at him. He looked suddenly bitter, angry, like a little boy that had his toy snatched by a bigger, older kid, by his brother Dean. “What do you mean it isn’t us? You think we’re incapable of living normal lives? Huh, Dean, is that it?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I think,” Dean said automatically.

“Why’s that?”

“Because we’re Winchesters, man. We just don’t have it in us.”

“You’re kidding. You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Dean sighed. What was it about Sam and his insistence on being as stubborn as a bull? “Look Dad didn’t raise us like that, like normal people. You’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal, Sam. I’m sure Cas will look for a way to get us out of here if he noticed we’re gone long enough. We just have to wait it out. You’ll see, Sammy.”

“Don’t call me that, jerk face.” Sam stormed off.

Dean groaned and bit back on the urge to pull out his hair as he tore after his brother. He ignored all the people that stopped what they were doing long enough to shoot him weird looks. Just as he was racing past the trailers outside of the set, cursing Sam for his immaturity in his head all the while, he caught sight of someone tumbling out from the corner of his eye. He didn’t slow down, had bigger things on his mind than a damn drunken actor. In fact Dean found himself running faster until the guy on his hands and knees was almost a speck in the distance.

“Wait! _Winchester_ , fucking wait a minute!” And that, that right there was enough for Dean to freeze, his right leg hanging in the air caught in mid step. The guy rose shakily to his feet and came stumbling over, shock and bewilderment and a little bit of awe on his face that Dean was sure was a mirrored expression of his own. Well, shit, he thought dimly as he came face to face with his doppelganger, the guy that had to be, just had to be Jensen Ackles.


	10. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Five minutes earlier...**

**Part 7**

Holy shit. He felt his hands beneath him, touched the fucking floor. God, his trailer. He was in his trailer again. Jensen almost sobbed with relief, he could feel the tears welling in his eyes just waiting for that one moment to hit before he released the flood, but no, he wasn’t going to do that, not now, not here. He swiped his eyes quickly and rolled over until he was lying on his stomach, pushed his arms and knees up, then rose on shaky legs. He almost tripped over, caught himself on the wall and scanned the room quickly to find Jared groaning, sprawled out on the couch. This was insane, hugely insane. Jensen could almost write this off as some kind of bad dream, hallucination maybe, but when he looked at the window it was still broken in as physical evidence of their jump, their crazy, whacked up adventure and Jensen felt his shoulders start to sag in some miserable defeat.

He stumbled around the room, feeling foreign, alien somehow, his mind wandering back to the angel Castiel and Bobby Singer, left back in their own world expecting the return of the Winchester brothers. Then just like that Jensen was heading to the door, hands trembling, ears ringing, old sneakers stomping over the glass shards scattered all over the room and then he thought, _this is gonna suck for the guy to clean up all this_. He flung open the door of his trailer to the outside world, glad it was cloudy instead of sunny so he didn’t have to shield his face from the near blinding light. He caught sight of the other trailers and oh god, he was back again. In the back of his mind, he realized he hadn’t been gone that long, maybe a little over a day but god, it already felt like more than that, like a week, like a month. It was insane. Jensen saw people walking around him, cameras, props, a wave here and there when they caught sight of him staring and he grinned, genuinely happy, and waved back and some people sent him some weird stares in response to his unusual enthusiasm but for once, Jensen ignored them because it was seriously fucking good to be back. He was never going to get tired of thinking that, feeling that, at least not for a long time.

Just as Jensen was feeling his body relax, at peace, he noticed a man racing by, caught the blur of a familiar dark jacket…no, that couldn’t…it was impossible, right? His eyes widened at the guy’s back; that familiar military cut and his hands flew to rub gingerly at his own head involuntarily. Lips pursed, Jensen had a sudden thought and acted out of pure instinct. He raised one hand as if to reach the guy and said, “Wait!” Paused, then, “Winchester, fucking a wait a minute!” Then before Jensen could even figure what was going on, before the guy could jerk to a full stop, he was stumbling over to his impossible doppelganger. When he shot his head back up, he was gripping at the guy’s jacket, and yup, that was definitely the jacket that ‘Dean Winchester’ always wore, the one that always made him look like he was a part of a rock band or so said his fans, and Jesus, he wanted to laugh and sob all at once, because he was either turning into a whacko and this was just some poor dude dressing up and playing pretend and he’d be sent off to the nuthouse before he could even fully form a comprehensive apology, or it was all real and Jensen was going to drive to the nearest bar tonight and drown in all the alcohol money could buy in this world and get some new priorities in the morning.

He could feel a tremor run through the guy for a second before he shook it off and then Jensen’s shoulders were grabbed in both hands, god, iron grip much, and then he was being shaken slightly until he was looking the dude in the eyes, in green vibrant eyes, and Jensen was really off the kilter now because he might as well be facing the damn mirror. _Christ, this is weird_ , he thought dazedly. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to say to the man, to himself essentially. But Dean didn’t seem to have a problem with his next move. His hand came up viciously fast, and soon before Jensen even knew what hit him, his whole world was spinning, his face turned with the hard impact of the loud, resound **SMACK**. What the everlasting hell, his fucking TV character just— **SMACK**. 

“Dude, you with me yet?”

Jensen shook himself out his daze. His fucking TV character just slapped him twice now. “God, when did my life turn out so weird?”

“Welcome to mine,” Dean said. He loosened his grip and stepped back, fixing Jensen with an expected glance. “Okay, so just to make sure we’re on the same page here, you’re Jensen Ackles, right? The ‘me’ of this world or whatever.”

Jensen blinked dazedly, rubbed at his sore face. “Uh, yeah, I’m Jensen…” Letting his voice trail off, he peered closer at Dean. God this was still so freaky. “You’re uh, Dean.”

“Yeah. Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, at your service,” Dean said with a smirk.

People always asked him questions about the role he played on the TV show, questions generally Jensen never cared to think about, like, _do you think you share a lot in common with Dean_? The standard answer was always yes, yes he did. He had always considered himself loyal to a fault and Dean, well, Dean was as fucking loyal as any son of bitch could get. How far would you go to save a friend? A family member? He wasn’t so sure he’d burn in hell for someone. Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn’t. But Jensen never thought about that too seriously because hell wasn’t real in the sense it was in the show. Hell was…well, no one really knew if hell actually existed. But now, now walking side by side a man that should never have existed in the first place, it made Jensen think.

Jensen’s perspective on things had really been changing the past day. Travelling to another dimension can do that to you, he thought sourly. There was a more interesting question someone asked him more recently at a convention. It went something like this: “ _If you could ask Dean Winchester anything you wanted, what would you ask_?” The fan had worded that as a one question thing but Jensen realized now he had way more than one or two or, hell, a couple questions. Was this like asking himself questions? He thought about that but shook his head mentally. Dean, as far as he could tell, was his own person, not just some extended part of Jensen. He was flesh and blood, and he felt, well, he felt pretty solid to Jensen earlier. Unless he was hallucinating. Then Jared was hallucinating as well. And Sam was a part of it. God everything was so weird. His life was so weird.

They were sitting in Jensen’s trailer, all four of them. An hour since Jensen ran up to his doppelganger, fifty five minutes since Jared woke up and saw them together as Dean quickly explained he was trying to find his brother and fifteen minutes of aimless wandering led the three to huddle in a corner of the main set trying to come up with some game plan as to where Sam might have hid out, which eventually led to finding him at the buffet table outside the trailer ten minutes later all broody, and gorging on chicken and rice and all the edibles they had stocked up at the place. Then everyone else decided they were hungry and Jensen offered his trailer for lunch instead of standing around like clueless, suspicious idiots and that had pretty much been that.

“So let me get this straight, you guys were somehow zapped to our world after we fell into yours, and you guys ran into Bobby and he let you stay with him ‘til you guys could get things sorted out and then, the angel, Cas, Castiel, whatever the hell you wanna call him, he shows up and sends you guys back here to find us and help get us back home—our home.”

Jensen nodded as he dipped a chicken wing into the sauce. “Got it in one, partner.”

“Can you believe this, Sammy? Looks like Cas will let any regular Joe help these days,” Dean complained. “I mean couldn’t he have sent us divine help in the form of an angel at least?”

Jensen opened his mouth to say something but Sam beat him to the punch. “Well, Dean, they’re not exactly regular.” He glanced briefly from Jensen to Jared with a forced grin that dropped once he got back to dipping his eggroll into the sauce.

“How do you figure that? I bet you they never shot a gun before,” Dean said, munching on his rice. 

“No…but we, uh, took down a rugaru. Does that count?” Jared chugged down half his beer as the group turned to stare at him. “What? It was gonna get out eventually.”

“You took down a rugaru?” Sam choked out. 

“With a pipe too, might I add,” Jensen chimed in with a grin, then took up his beer in a mock toast. “Ain’t such a regular Joe after all, huh?”

Dean blinked in surprise and shared a look with his brother before they all erupted into laughter. 

“Jared, man, you gotta tell the story behind that one,” Dean said once they all settled down again.

“Uh, nah, you really don’t want to know,” Jared said with a grimace.

“Why’s that?”

Jensen grinned as he patted Jared. He leaned back, relaxed and content from the lunch they had. “Dude, he fucking pissed his pants he was so scared at first. See, it got us trapped in the warehouse and god, lemme tell you now, Jared’s got this thing for tight, cramped places—“

“—you can’t be serious,” Jared cut in. “That’s not how it went, jackass, and you know it. Let me tell the story.”

Jensen shrugged and glanced to Dean, winking at his doppelganger. This wasn’t so bad now that he had a little to drink. He could almost pretend he was just hanging with a bunch of buddies, drinking and talking like old times, just pretend that Dean and Sam were just really, really convincing stunt doubles. He could totally handle this. Taking another swig of his drink he listened as Jared rehashed their impossible adventure.

“…Jensen totally hid behind me like a scared little girl,” Jared said with a smirk and took a long pull of his second bottle.

Jensen immediately scowled, feeling his face burn up with heat. Jesus. Sam roared with laughter and slapped his brother’s back as Dean tried not to choke on his own beer. “Hey, my actor’s no pansy!” he protested and slung an arm around Jensen. He leaned up against him and smacked him on hard on the head. Jensen was sure it was supposed to be a reassuring pat but it came out harder than intended due to the amount of liquor in his system and he barely managed to hide a wince. “Don’t worry, dude, I got your back,” he said, the words coming out a little slurred.

Jensen scrunched his face and pushed his doppelganger off him, sending him crashing into his brother’s side. “Ow! Dean!” Sam cried in surprise.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled as he got off his brother.

Jensen sniggered, feeling a weird sense of triumph. They all talked some more after that, eventually letting the conversation steer into more serious territory like how Cas told them they could communicate with him between worlds since magic didn’t exactly exist in a more conventional way. 

“Human blood and an exorcism in Latin,” Dean mumbled as he drained his fourth beer. Jensen raised an eyebrow as he watched the hunter get up on shaky legs. He staggered for a bit before grabbing hold of the wall to balance himself. “Who would’ve figured that motherfucker was right ‘bout something? Angels are goddamn hilarious.”

“It’s not really funny.”

“Well duh, that was sarcasm. Ever heard of it? ‘Course it’s not funny. I mean, we gotta slit the throat of some poor bastard just to fucking talk to Cas!”

“Jesus, Dean, calm down,” Sam said.

Dean scowled at him and said loudly, “I am calm. This is calm, Sammy. Me. Being. Fucking. Calm.”

“This is our only way back, Dean,” Sam said, starting to get to his feet to face off against his brother now. “You said it yourself, we can’t stay here.”

Jensen and Jared exchanged knowing looks. Jensen backed up a few steps to get out of the way of an obvious start to a brotherly scrimmage. With Sam and Dean, it always seemed to end up bloody instead of with hugs and kittens. The two hunters started circling around each other, hands clenching and unclenching just itching to release some pent up anger and frustration that had been building for days, maybe weeks. Who knew just how long really?

“Since when have you been such a cold, heart…” Dean’s voice trailed off as Sam showed a somewhat self-deprecating grin, his eyes daring Dean to finish what he was going to say. Dean swallowed, looking a bit guilty but continued anyway, “…heartless son of bitch, Sammy?”

“Maybe I’ve always been one, Dean,” Sam said. 

Dean shook his head. “No, no matter what you think, you’ve always had good intentions.”

“Good intentions?” Sam snorted. “Dude, what about last year when I didn’t have a soul?”

“Dude, hello, soulless. And that wasn’t even you so don’t start on that here.”

“Fine, then what about when I was drinking demon—“

Jared coughed awkwardly and the two paused in their brother/lover’s spat long enough to stare at the other two men in the room with them. Oddly enough Jensen thought they had pretty much forgotten Jared and he were even there. Sam looked somewhat embarrassed, his face slightly red and Dean had quickly glanced away, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest trying for nonchalant.

“Right, sorry.”

Jensen waved the apology away and got down to business. “So who’s the sucker whose blood we’re gonna need to do this thing?” He looked at each of the men expectantly.

Almost immediately four arms shoved out to be used in the ritual. “Okay, enough. Let me just say this once: No one here is going to use anyone here in any ritual, capisce?” 

Jensen frowned as all the limbs returned to their respective owners, his own retracted somewhat slower than the others. He nibbled the bottom of his lip suppressing the urge to say, “Sir, yes, sir. Want us to get down on our hands and knees and do some pushups as well, sir?” It must have shown on his face though because Dean narrowed his eyes at him and Jensen just smiled oh so innocently, the years as an actor did wonders.

So now they were back at square one, which was really nothing at all. Except for the fact Jensen and Jared had two doppelgangers. He really didn’t want to dwell too much on that fact though.

A knock on the door startled Jensen out of his daze. He was half way to his feet when Misha barged in without so much as a warning and Jensen had just enough time to chance a glance to his co-star who was straddling a chair to the table. Sam and Dean had taken the couch which left Jensen standing awkwardly in the middle of his very much cramped trailer, a toothpick dangling between his teeth.

“Oh thank god, Jensen, you’re here. Kripke and Singer were starting to—“

Well, nothing like awkward in ‘Awkward-Ville’, Jensen thought ruefully as he looked around him.

“Awwwkward,” Dean’s voice chimed into the silence.


	11. Part 8

**Part 8**

Misha had always been weird, but now Jared had evidence that he was not just plain weird, but the fucking King, yeah, capital ‘K’ and all. What sane, normal person just sat back and nodded vigorously in the face of his best friends’ doppelgangers as they essentially told their life stories and how they came to be here and how they had been fucking lying and pretending to be what they were obviously saying they weren’t? Seriously Misha was just eating this up like he was hearing the president was actually an alien from someplace far, far away or something like it, all wide eyes and gleaming excitement. Jared had to resist the urge to tear his hair out. This. Was. So. Effing. Messed. Up.

“And Cas, what’s he like, really?”

Dean frowned, scratching his jaw as he mulled over the question. He shrugged as he said, “Well, like an angel, you know? I mean, dude, you _play_ him.”

“Well, yeah, but these two jackasses play you guys and their portrayals…are, a bit, different,” Misha pointed out.

“How different we talking?” Sam asked, looking more intrigued than Jared was right now. Seriously. Couldn’t they fucking get back on the subject at hand? Hello, Castiel’s important mission, a fucking angel war for Pete’s sake, and the Winchesters didn’t look a damn bit worried, like this was just a normal thing. Jared paused in his inner rant and thought about that some more. It probably was. Then he shook his head. No, it didn’t matter. They had to get the Winchesters back. 

“Don’t you think we’ve got more pressing concerns to worry ‘bout?” he blurted, trying for casual and not panicked but pretty sure he didn’t succeed.

The group turned to stare at him. Jensen said, “No need to get your panties in a twist, princess,” the same moment Dean said, “No sweat, kid.” 

Jared rolled his eyes. “You do realize one of Raphael's men could be coming after us any minute.”

“You told us,” Dean said casually, waving off the reminder with a motion of his hand. 

“What? Raphael? That one archangel?” Misha cut in, eyes bright.

Jensen shrugged. “Supposedly. We only got to see his actor, what, once?”

“Yeah. But I don’t remember Kripke mentioning him coming back and I didn’t see him on the set at all this week. Probably playing as another ‘vessel’.”

“How are you guys so casual about this?” Jared asked.

Sam shrugged and answered, “Dude, have you seen your world? No magic here, so that applies to angel mojo too…I think.”

“You think?” Jared demanded.

“Relax, J-Pad,” Dean said after a moment. Jared raised an eyebrow at the nickname. The doppelganger froze as if the nickname had just slipped out and he didn’t realize he had said it until now, but then shrugged, as casual and cool like Jensen looked on the show.

“Seriously, man? J-Pad?” Jensen said, looking in disbelief at his counterpart, like he couldn’t believe he just said that. Jared couldn’t blame him. He heard just the same as everyone else and still couldn’t believe it.

“Why not, hotshot?” Dean shot back. What the hell was up with all the bad nicknames?

“Hotshot? Dude, you’re like one of those bad joke books only you’re full of bad nicknames instead,” Jensen blurted, then paused to consider what he just said. He rubbed a hand to the side of his face and huffed out a breathy laugh. “I can’t believe I just said that to myself.”

“You and me both,” Dean mumbled after a shocked silent moment.

Sam sniggered into a fist and nudged Jared in the side. “Tell me I’m not going insane, man,” he stage whispered into Jared’s ear. “Tell me you’re seeing the same as me.”

“We’re both going insane then.” Jared rubbed his eyes in disbelief but the scene playing out before him wasn’t going away. Dean Winchester and his actor, Jared’s co-star, were teasing each other like best buds. Not that Jared was in any better a position because he was currently sharing a beer in comfortable silence with his own doppelganger. He stole a glance to the door where Misha was hanging about. He was probably the worst. He was taking all this with a calm and ease as if he saw this on a daily basis. Then again it was Misha. The man called his own fans ‘minions’ for Pete’s sake.

“So who said we had to kill someone for the ritual?”

The question startled everyone out of silence just as Jared knew it would. Well, they had to start somewhere. “Woah, woah, no one did. And we’re not gonna kill anyone,” Dean said finally, looking far too uncomfortable for Jared’s liking. He felt a huge ‘but’ coming on. “It’s just, whenever someone summons up something supernatural, nothing good ever comes out in the end. Demon, angel, you name it. Always got some kinda price that makes it just, you know, not worth it.”

“So, what, then? Me and Padalecki here, we heard Cas pretty clear. He said human blood,” Jensen pressed.

“He didn’t say anything about killing anyone, did he?” Dean suddenly snapped.

“No, but…”

“No buts,” Dean said, already shaking his head. “No one’s gonna die. Okay? Even if it’s our only way to get home, no one here’s gonna die on my watch.”

“So, what, then? What are you guys gonna do?”

Jared frowned as the room went silent again. After a moment, it was Misha that said, “How about we all donate a little of our blood? That should be enough.”

Dean looked thoughtfully at him, like he would actually consider that. “Okay,” he said finally with a shrug. “That could work. What do you think, Sammy? You know more ‘bout this occult stuff than me.”

Sam shrugged. “People usually use all of a person’s blood but I dunno if that’s because it’s just easier or if it’s a requirement. I mean, I don’t exactly see why it wouldn’t work if you take a little from different people as long as we get enough. Human blood is human blood.”

“Okay then. Guess that settles that.”

“What? Me and Jared don’t get a say in this, asshole?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at his doppelganger and leaned back ever so casually, then he smirked and said, “Oh come on, hotshot, you already had your say when you agreed to be Cas’ lapdogs.”

Jensen snorted but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t really say anything because he and Jared had agreed to help the Winchesters. Dean bent down to pull up a knife from the back of his ankle strap, Jared’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets at the sight. It glinted in the light and Jesus, that wasn’t a damn prop. It was sharp, pointy and fucking real.

“Slicin’ and dicin’ time, guys,” Dean said cheerfully and sliced a thin cut on his arm, letting a trail of blood ooze into the bowl. Then he turned to Sam and held out the knife for him once he was satisfied with the amount in the bowl.

Sam took it and made a similar cut on his left arm, hissing at the pain as blood dribbled out. All the while, Jared had to gulp down the nausea he felt. They all waited in a semi-circle around the center of the room and when Sam thought it was finally enough, he retracted his arm and dropped the knife in Jensen’s trembling hands. Jared had to give him props for the poker face he kept on as he let his arm hover over the bowl and watched in a horrified kind of detachment as his blood spilled into the half full bowl that Jared decided was going to be known as the ‘bowl of sacrifice’. It had a nice ring to it.

Misha came next as Jensen was handed a paper towel. He made his cut just deep enough and angled his arm so none of the blood spilled to the floor. Jared looked down almost of his own accord and saw some drops staining the floor already. He wondered vaguely what the cleaning crew would think of the glass shards all over the couch and then take a good look at the floor and see the dark, red stains already seeping into the pores of the carpet. It was Jared’s turn when he dared to look back up, everyone else already finishing cleaning their cuts and just staring at him expectantly. Jared, numb to the bone, didn’t say a word as he accepted the knife and proceeded to make a long, shallow cut.

The process had gone quietly enough, like everyone thought if they talked, uttered even one word it wouldn’t work. Or maybe they were all just too busy staring at all the blood, a sea of blood practically, too mesmerized to put into words what it was they were seeing.

Dean had set the bowl down on the floor and sat down, cross legged. Everyone else had followed suit because standing just felt too awkward. He waited as his brother settled next to him staring intently into the bowl, face screwed in concentration as he started to recite the exorcism.

Jared felt the odd urge to take hold of Jensen’s and Misha’s hands on either side of him. Wasn’t this what people usually did when they were trying to communicate with, like, a ghost or something? God, he needed to cut back the crap he saw on TV. It was starting to mess with his head. Dean, who was sitting across from him, just grinned, like he knew exactly what Jared was thinking. Jared ducked his head and let his hands settle into his lap, all clammy and cold and slightly twitchy.

Suddenly Sam stopped and Jared blinked, wondering if it was done already. He looked back up to see everyone staring into empty air as well. Then suddenly the blood was boiling and Jared wondered if that was supposed to happen. Sam and Dean looked kind of tensed, shoulders hunched. 

“Cas?” Dean called.

The blood boiled again in response, then stopped. Jared held his breath in the momentary silence. It boiled for a third time and an almost familiar voice said from the bowl, “Dean? Dean is that you?”

“Holy…fuck,” Jensen breathed from beside him. Yeah, holy fuck was exactly Jared’s thought.

“Dean, answer me,” the bowl tried again.

“Yeah, yeah, Cas, it’s us,” Dean said as he gathered his wits back.

A brief silence and then, “Oh, thank god. Dean, okay, listen carefully. I’m only going to say this once. I’m going to create a portal for you and your brother to get back, but not now. I don’t have enough time. I’m a bit…preoccupied at the moment.”

Dean swallowed, digesting the new information. It was Sam that blurted, “When? Cas, when are you making the portal?”

“Soon,” came the answer. “I…I’m on the run right now, from Raphael and his men. Be at the same spot you fell through in exactly, and I mean exactly, two hours from now, and…and be ready. Do you understand? Sam? Dean?”

“Y-yeah. We got you, Cas.”

“Good. I only have enough to make the ritual once,” the bowl said.

“Yeah. Okay. We’ll be there.”

“Okay. And guys, be careful.” The boiling then stopped and Jared was staring into a slopping mess of blood. He shuddered and rose to his feet. Dean leaned back casually and exchanged a long look with his brother. Everyone stayed quiet.

If Jared hadn’t worked with the guy for years now, he’d have chalked up Misha’s behavior to shock or a break from reality. How else would it explain why he was prancing around the room like what just happened was the best thing that happened to him instead of running and screaming for the hills? Jared wasn’t doing either of it because one, he wasn’t as weird as Misha to think this as something exciting and two, he was too numb to consider running and screaming. Not with what happened to him and Jensen earlier at least.

And predictably, Jensen was wearing his best damn poker face and no matter how hard Jared tried to see through it, he couldn’t get even a glimpse of the man under his mask. It was really lame because Jared might be the only guy here that looked just as panicked as he felt. Because the blood ritual occult thing actually worked. It. Worked. Here. He could always tell himself it was all a hallucination, even if it wasn’t, but Jensen and Misha both saw it and he knew, Misha would never let him forget this. Even when he badly wanted to. Made it so blatantly clear he wanted to.

He could drown himself in liquor at the nearest bar, and it still wouldn’t be enough because…

“Dude, that was awesome! I mean at first I kinda had my doubts even though you guys are, like, right in front of me. I mean, you guys could be really convincing doubles that J2 hired to mess with me, you know? But then, dude, was that really Cas?” There was a kind of reverence and awe in his voice that made Jared want to gag.

Dean waved him off like he was just another annoying fan that he and Sam had to deal with on a daily basis, the thought had Jared snigger in his head at the sheer freaking irony. “Yep, that was Cas.”

Misha opened his mouth, probably to suck up some more, the fucking traitor, but a sudden scream outside cut him off. Dean and Sam, hunting and saving people so ingrained in them, made a dash for the door and flung it open. Jared, Jensen, and Misha, curiosity getting the best of them were right at their heels. They all stepped outside in time to see a few people running their way, flailing their arms when they spotted the five just standing dumbly outside the trailer.

Someone Jared wasn’t familiar with, maybe one of the extras, shouted out, “Don’t just stand there! Run! Some dude just shot someone!” Then he was stumbling back, tripped and got up as quick as Jared had ever seen anyone get up, and was running in a different direction all together, out of his mind and scared shitless. He swallowed audibly and looked to the little group still frozen near him.

“What do we do now?” he asked what everyone was thinking.

Dean hesitated, looking to his brother. God, they looked at each other a lot, didn’t they? Jared never noticed until now. “We get him before he hurts any more people.” Obviously. Like it was the only answer.

Everyone agreed it had to be one of Raphael’s men. So the bastard shot someone instead of smite. They already went over how there was no magic here and that had to include angelic hell powers. And it couldn’t have been an act of random violence, not with everything else that happened over the past day or so. So that left them with a dimension travelling bad angel loose in the ‘real’ world. That last bit had been unofficially dubbed by Jared in his head.

“So what are we going to do? ‘Gank’ him?” Jared asked finally as they all retreated back in the trailer.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked one by one from Jared, to Misha, to Jensen. He raised a finger and said, “You three aren’t gonna do anything.” Then he pointed to him and then Sam before anyone could protest. “Now, me and Sam? We’re gonna hunt this sucker down and get him talking about what’s been going on with the damn angels lately.”

“Wait a sec—“

“Come on guys, seriously. Let me and Dean handle this one. I mean, we’re really grateful for your help so far and all, but this is way out of your league. No offense.”

Dean smirked, nodding along with his brother. “Yeah, kiddos. Just leave this one to the grownups.”

Jared scowled. He had been starting to like Dean a little but then the guy goes and says something like that. Who knew both Dean and Ackles had something in common. They were both first class jackasses. No one argued after that because it seemed pretty pointless. Jared watched the doppelgangers go. When the door closed shut behind them, he turned to stare at Jensen and Misha.

“We gonna follow them or what?” Misha asked.

Jared smirked. And this was one of the reasons he and Misha hit it off together almost immediately. All three waited a beat before they went back out. It was all insane on a whole another level for Jared, maybe deeper. The whole teleporting to another dimension had been the first level because Jared could have easily pretended it was just a bad dream in the end. But this, here, back in the ‘real’ world, meeting doppelgangers and chasing after bad angels? How was he supposed to get over this when half the crew saw it as well? God, how was he supposed to ever be Sam Winchester again without thinking of the real…no, wait, don’t think like that. 

“A baseball bat? Really?” Jensen said.

The three were huddled together at the set, hiding behind the green screen. Misha had apparently picked up a baseball bat on the way in one of the props' pile. Jared didn’t think about getting something random to use as a weapon. He and Jensen planned on just tackling the guy if they ever spotted him.

Misha looked down at it and shrugged, tightening his grip after a moment. “Gotta protect myself any way I can, man. I mean people fend off burglars and murderers all the time with a baseball bat on TV, that or vases.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “If you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly a movie,” he said dryly.

Misha looked around thoughtfully. “No, but it’s a movie set.”

Seriously. Were they really arguing about this now? Jared could hardly believe it and resisted the urge to smack the backs of their heads, just barely. “Guys. Focus!”

A sudden gunfire broke out and Jared tumbled from behind the screen to see the Winchesters facing off with what had to be one of the extras, one of the dudes that volunteered to play as an angel grunt. But no, he had to tell himself, this wasn’t some regular guy, some actor.

The guy ignored Jared, shooting toward Dean with intent and purpose at the same time both Winchesters decided to rush him. Dean grabbed the guy’s arm, forcing him to shoot at the ceiling as Sam tackled them to the ground, the air whooshing out of everyone at the impact. Jared sat dumbly on the ground as he watched them roll around, trying to wrestle the gun from the guy’s hand.

Then a loud shout came from behind the green screen and Misha jumped out with the baseball bat in both hands, eyes wide, like some comical relief. Jared nearly groaned.

“Okay. Let’s all calm down, everyone, and talk this out like rational adults.” 

Like some kind of weird ass cartoon, everyone paused long enough to stare at Misha.

Seriously. Leave it to Misha to make everything even more awkward than it had to be. In the pause, Dean had enough time to pluck the gun from the guy’s hand and Sam hauled him up to his feet. Dean had then told Jared to get some rope and proceeded to truss the guy up like a turkey, pushing him down on a chair in the center of the room, lights all bright and shining, all the doors locked and Jared almost felt like he was in one of those procedural cop shows waiting for the interrogation to begin. Actually that was exactly what Sam and Dean turned the set into.

“Okay, about Raphael, start talking.”

Like any interrogation scene Jared saw, the guy wasn’t close to talking. He looked angrily at Dean, then Sam, then…Jensen, then Jared and then Misha and by the end of it, he wasn’t so much angry but confused. Jared sympathized with the poor, bewildered bastard, because he clearly thought he only had to deal with the Winchesters here. Probably didn’t even know the existence of the actors.

“Wha…b-but…you,” he sputtered, looking around him like he had been tossed suddenly way out of his depths.

“Look, you’re talking to us. Me and Sam, not them. Ignore them,” Dean said trying to divert his attention back.

Jared was content to let the interrogation play out the way the Winchesters wanted it but with a quick glance to Misha and Jensen, he realized he was the only one that felt that way. Misha had that glint in his eye the way he always did when he was thinking of a way to mess with him or Jensen. Jensen raised an eyebrow at Jared, as if to say, _don’t look at me, I’m not a part of this_. This, whatever Misha was planning on doing.

“Turn around! I am Castiel,” Misha said loudly in his angel voice, stepping toward their captive. He glanced briefly at Sam, then Dean. “Thank you, Dean, Sam, but I can take it from here.”


	12. Part 9

**Part 9**

“Tell me…one of Raphael’s men, where is your leader now? Where is this ‘great’ Raphael whom thinks he can defy me? And exactly…what is he planning?”

Jensen watched Misha circle the guy with a straight face, hands clasped behind him. This was ‘improv’ at its…well, not its finest because if he was being completely honest with himself, the dialogue sucked. But Misha had on his poker face through it all like he was some serious shit and that he supposed made it all the more laughable. He had to nudge Jared a few times ‘cos the fucker kept trying to crack smiles. The poor bastard all tied up in the chair, Jensen felt only a little sorry for. Well no he didn’t. The guy did shoot some poor guy in the face. He could sit tight through a little bad acting.

“Fuck you, Castiel!” The guy tried to spit in Misha’s face but Misha was good at dodging things and like anyone could have good aim being fucking tied to a chair in the first place. He sidestepped it easily.

“That’s not very nice, you know,” Misha said, voice suddenly rougher and deeper. “You kinky bastard.”

For fuck’s sake. Jensen was not going to laugh, not now. He was the poker face master dammit. He looked up just in time to catch a sly grin cross Misha’s face for a brief second as he moved behind the guy. Jensen narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling payback was going to be a bitch at the next convention. Misha moved on.

“Tell me what Raphael is planning,” Misha said, leaning into the guy’s personal bubble.

“Never,” Raphael’s guy spat.

Jensen wanted to roll his eyes, feeling like he was watching an episode of what was that called…with the good cop, bad cop routine, Criminal Minds or whatever? Who knew? All the cop shows these days, while under different names, were at their core, the same.

“Alright! That’s it, this is getting us nowhere. Fork over the stage, now, _Cas_ ,” Dean said stressing the name out. Jensen bit the bottom of his lip to keep from laughing but really, it was kind of pointless because he still let out a small snort. Dean glanced over, a silent warning for Jared and Jensen to not try anything. Misha wasn’t getting with the program though.

He stopped to turn to stare at Dean. “Dean, I do not think it wise…”

“I’ll tell you what’s wise,” Dean cut in. “And that’s you stepping back and letting me and Sam take the reigns for a while now.”

Misha opened his mouth to protest but Dean stomped over and took him to the side, leaning in to whisper, “Enough. Cut it out, man. You had your fun and we’re under a deadline if you haven’t noticed. So just let me and Sam…just do our jobs. Now go over there with your other pals and stay put.”

“Whatever you say, Dean,” Misha said, nodding his head seriously. He clasped a firm hand to Dean’s shoulder, startling the guy to jump in surprise. “All you had to do was ask.”

There was one thing about Misha to understand. He liked to mess with people, like seriously mess with them. Jensen was sure it was one of his goals in life to send Jensen packing in a straightjacket. He goofed off on set, off set and well…he was just a fucking goofball in general. Seriously, what else was there to say about the guy? Jensen was watching the dude trying to mess with his doppelganger’s head.

Dean shoved Misha’s hand off him, looking at the actor like he was some rabid dog. “Dude, get the fuck off me.”

“Sorry, Dean,” Misha said in the ‘Castiel’ voice.

People on set liked to call it the ‘Castiel’ voice, with the capital ‘C’ and it sort of stuck. As Misha turned and walked over to Jensen and Jared, he had the biggest grin on his face that Jensen wondered if it hurt to grin like that. Dean straightened his leather jacket and motioned for Sam to follow his lead. The guy strapped to the chair looked confused as hell.

“Dude, what were you thinking?” Jensen asked.

Misha shrugged and admitted, “Was thinking it’d be fun. And trust me, it definitely was.”

Jensen grinned. He didn’t lie, it was.

“Okay, look. You may have heard of us. We’re the Winchester brothers. I’m Dean and he’s Sam.”

“Yeah.” Jensen turned his attention back to the front. The guy on the chair glanced briefly to the three. “And so are they back there and that guy’s Castiel. What the fuck is going on?”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, huffed out an irritated sigh. “Look. Don’t worry about those three. Okay? All you need to know is I’m the real Dean and he’s the real Sam. And we’re the ones asking the questions around here.”

“What do you mean you’re the _real_ Dean and Sam? Then who the hell are those guys?”

Scratch those last thoughts on procedural cop shows. If this was a cop show, he would probably be glued to his couch for a long time. This was hilarious shit. Jensen could see the frustration running off Dean in waves, if he’d been animated, smoke would shooting out his nostrils by now.

“Dean, this isn’t working,” Sam said, ever the placating brother.

“Clearly. Okay, new game plan.” Dean took out a knife from inside his jacket and put it to the guy’s throat. “Now I’m sure you already noticed by now but your angel mojo don’t work here, but you see this knife? This here, jackass, is very real. And it hurts like a bitch. Trust me. So answer the damn questions or get your head chopped off. I’m good either way.”

Wow. Jensen wasn’t even sure if Dean was bluffing or not. He whistled lowly in appreciation. Jared caught in the rib. “What? I have a right to be impressed over my doppelganger’s superior acting skills.”

Misha sniggered like what Jensen said was funny, which it wasn’t. Funny moment was over. This was serious shit. “Man, I been hanging with them the past day and take my word for it but they have no acting skills whatsoever.”

“Come again?” Jensen said.

“Sam and Dean _can't_ act.”

Jensen blinked, glancing over to where Dean was pushing the knife to the guy’s throat, Sam standing back, arms crossed as he watched. He swallowed. “Shut your mouth.”

The angel dude didn’t know anything, or wouldn’t tell them anything. Despite the ribs Misha gave to both Jared and Jensen about Dean’s and Sam’s…well lack of acting abilities, at least Dean hadn’t turned all Friday the 13th on them. The guy was breathing, living, just, well Jensen wanted to be optimistic about this, really he did but he’d be lying if he said the guy was better off now than before they showed up.

“Well that was pointless,” Sam said as they headed out of the building.

Dean shrugged as he stashed the knife back. “At least he won’t be shooting any more people now.”

“Yeah but we still have no idea what the angels are planning. Dean, for all we know the angels could be planning another apocalypse!”

“Nah, Cas, wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Just what this show needs. More apocalypse,” Jensen piped in. 

Dean shot a glare to him. “Dude, shut up.”

“Sorry, touchy,” Jensen said, not really sorry at all.

“Anyways, as I was saying, Sammy, Cas wants free will just as much as we do.”

“Free to drink, free to smoke, free to take drugs, ahh, free will,” Misha said.

“Dude. You shut up too. You aren’t Cas,” Dean grumbled.

“Free to be Me and You,” Jared added. “Wasn’t that an episode? Right, Ackles?”

“Nah dude, it was ‘Free to be _You_ and _Me_ ’. Get it right, jackass.”

“Whatever. Me, you, you, me, potato, patato.”

“How ‘bout everyone just shut your goddamn mouths.”

Brief pause. “You sound so much like Jensen it isn’t even funny,” Misha said.

Jensen shook his head as Dean scowled. “That’s ‘cos he’s me. Technically. Sort of. You know what? I don’t even know anymore.”

“Come on, Sam. We’re leaving this place. Now.” The brothers stalked ahead, leaving the three actors to smirk at each other.

It wasn’t much the farewell Jensen thought it’d be. Well he wasn’t sure what he thought at this point. Maybe more beer and singing like at the conventions. Maybe more magic and angst like in the show. Who knew? When the three showed up to where the Winchesters ought to be, smashed window and everything, they were already gone and the cleaning crew had just started in the area.

There had been no smirk, no wave, no ‘goodbye’, not even a goddamn note. And when they revisited the set with the green screen, telling Kripke and the rest of the crew not to freak out at the sight when they opened the doors, they were met with an empty chair. No blood splatters, not a damn single drop. The angel freak was gone and Jensen, Jared and Misha were left looking a lot like crazy drunks.

And that was how Jensen wrote it off as: a drunk night with mad hallucinations. Jared and Misha and Jensen, they all promised not to bring it up again. After that, almost everything went back to normal. Misha still called his fans ‘minions’. He still played crazy pranks and Jensen still wanted to throttle the dude sometimes. However something was different. Jensen and Jared. Well they weren’t the Winchesters, never would be as close, but Jared didn’t ignore him nearly as often as he did before. Jensen didn’t shrug off his attempt at cracking jokes. At a recent convention, the silence wasn’t as awkward and for the most part, they smiled and looked happy and friendly and overall, it was marked as one of the more fun conventions he had ever been to. So at least they were trying.

The incident was eventually forgotten…until the next time the Winchesters came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the ride. Wow that was more of spoof of the episode than I originally planned on. I might have a few more fun one shots coming up on this verse. Thank you who read this from start to end!


End file.
